Tear Me Apart
by Tragically Hopeless
Summary: Their relationship was anything but ordinary. It was not normal to have this type of relations with another man. But neither can they imagine themselves with another. For Matthew, it has always been Alfred and for Alfred, it has always been Matthew - no matter what life they're living. AmeCan.
1. Baby Blue Eyes

Wow, it's been forever and a half since the last time that I posted anything... Well, technically it's been about 10 months or so but who really cares about the specifics? I can't really say that I have any excuses other than the obvious writer's block and the fact that for 2 of those months I did next to nothing - literally. For those who may have read my other fics, Reflection and With Love in particular, there's a slight chance that they may be updated again, not just put on a permanent hiatus. Though I really want to rewrite them...

As for this story here, well, the idea just kinda hit me a little while ago and it's started to evolve to places that I don't even know... I hope you all like it as much as I do. Please tell me if you do though, so I know whether or not to upload the next chapter! Regardless, it will be at least a week before the next one is posted, although I hope to get lots written. Road trips are fun, eh?

Disclaimer: I do not and never will own APH. One can dream but it'll _probably _never happen.

Oh, and Irunya is Ukraine!

* * *

**Tear Me Apart  
**_Chapter One: Baby Blue Eyes_

* * *

Tail coats and hoop dresses filled the large, open room, slowly making their way from one side of the room to the other. Quiet whispers made themselves known, both deliberately and unintentionally; the words were an intricate dance all on their own. One man was the centre of it all as he quickly moved from person to person. The brief exchanges were filled with passionate smiles and flirtatious winks. Women giggled and blushed from his attentions while the men stared at him, jealously.

Few people even noticed the younger man following behind him.

Though it was not right to place all of the blame on them for the young man was as interested in the easily excitable crowds of people as they were in him. The man that he was following – the centre of attention – happened to be his elder brother, and did not seem to care as he introduced the young man to every person in sight.

"Monsieur Kirkland, it is certainly a pleasure to see you here," the elder brother smiled, seemingly amused with his own personal joke, "I did not think that you would come after what happened last time."

"Yes, well, I am completely certain that I will be on my best behaviour tonight. I have no wish to embarrass you on this lovely evening, Mr. Bonnefoy," a short, green eyed man replied.

"I do not think that I would complain if you decided not to be on your best tonight. It is always much more entertaining when you have a drink or five in you," before the green eyed man had the chance to get another word in, Mr. Bonnefoy motioned to the quiet, young man following him, "I do not believe that you have had the chance to meet my younger brother-."

"Yes, well, I believe that your younger brother is trying to introduce himself, frog."

The attention grabbing Mr. Bonnefoy looked over at his companion, looking surprised at the development. His younger brother – although being partially resigned to the treatment – appeared to be grateful. The younger let out a soft sigh but gave the green eyed man a small smiled, not daring to make eye contact with his older brother. He had been trying to introduce himself for the majority of the night with not even a little bit of success – much to his frustration.

"My name is Matthew Williams, and I must admit that I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Kirkland. Francis has spoken about you to great lengths, even if he would never admit it," the quiet man introduced himself, his voice barely audible over the noise in the room.

"It is a pleasure to meet you too, Mr. Williams. My companion here is Alfred Jones and my cousin. He just moved back here from the Southern colonies a few months ago."

The blue eyed blonde standing a bit behind Mr. Kirkland pouted slightly and spoke up, "You know, I am perfectly capable of speaking for myself too, Artie." The flinch from the overly familiar name was ignored by all. "It is nice to meet you, Mr. Williams. It is definitely a shame that Mr. Bonnefoy was not able to introduce the two of us before now."

"I would have done so if I had been given…"

The words had trailed off as both Mr. Bonnefoy and Mr. Kirkland focused their attention on the young men in front of them. Mr. Jones had grabbed a hold of Mr. William's gloved hand, and that same leather clad hand was slowly lifted up to Mr. Jones's lips as one would do with a woman. The older two gaped at them, but the only thing that Mr. Williams could see was those baby blue eyes staring up at him.

Those full lips lingered for a moment longer than necessary, and the quieter man found himself wishing that he hadn't decided to wear his favourite leather gloves. He wanted to be able to feel the smooth skin on his, and the pleasurable shock that would most surely come with it. Similar thoughts were reflected in Mr. Jones's mind.

Mr. Bonnefoy, on the other hand, was anxiously looking around to make sure that no one but the four of them knew of this event. It would be disastrous if people thought that such relations were encouraged at his gatherings.

"Alfred!" Mr. Kirkland looked as if he wished to hit his cousin repeatedly across the back of his head and most likely would have if it were not for their current company. "I sincerely apologize for his completely inappropriate behavior. He can be a bit eccentric at times. It must have been something that he learnt was okay in the New World."

"It was… it is fine, Mr. Kirkland," Mr. Williams spoke up, looking as surprised as the rest of them felt.

"It is?"

"Really?"

"No, Mr. Jones, I was completely lying to you just now. Please know that such a gesture is extremely inappropriate, given the current company. You might as well have forcibly taken my innocence away in the middle of this very room."

A wide grin slid into place on Mr. Jones's face and amusement danced in those beautiful baby blue eyes, just like Mr. Williams had been intending. The hand that had still loosely laid in the blue eyed blonde's grip was slowly but gently lifted away. There was even a small smile on Mr. Williams's face, despite the shocked look on the other two's faces.

"And now I am forced to apologize to you too. Mathieu's humor tends to show itself at the oddest of times," Mr. Bonnefoy added, this time being the one to refuse to look at his brother.

The younger brother was not paying attention however, as it had been captivated by a tall, blonde woman and her even taller brother across the room. They were standing off to the side a bit, obviously awkward in the large crowd. At the sight of them, the quiet man's shoulders relaxed slightly and he smiled slightly in relief. He had been hoping that they would show up, but had not been completely sure if they would make it.

"Francis, the guests that I have invited for the evening have arrived, so I am afraid that I will have to leave you for now." Mr. Williams turned back towards the two guests in front of him, his eyes easily finding baby blue. "I hope that the two of you have an excellent time this evening, Mr. Kirkland, Mr. Jones. I am sorry that we did not have a chance to talk more."

"And I hope that we will get a chance to see each other once again before Artie and I have to leave."

"I wish for that too, Mr. Jones."

The two older men relaxed considerably as Mr. Williams walked off to find his guests in the crowded room. They were so preoccupied in their relief that neither of them noticed that way Mr. Jones watched the quieter man or even how his gaze slowly dropped from the back of the man's head down to his butt. Mr. Jones, at the very least, considered this one thing a small miracle and a blessing. He was not entirely certain what his cousin would do if he was caught not so discretely ogling another man.

"Now, can I grab either of you a glass of wine this evening?" Mr. Bonnefoy asked, turning his attention back to the two men.

"I already told you that I am on my best behaviour this evening, frog. That means that I will not let you get me drunk, no matter how much I want to. Not after what happened last time."

* * *

"_Mattie, what're you doing up here?"_

'_Mattie' yelped at the sudden voice, tripping over a box that had been sticking out a bit farther than the rest. A blue eyed blonde snickered lightly as Mattie slowly picked himself up off of the floor, brushing dust off. A pair of indigo irises glared at the blonde who was standing on the ladder that led up to the cluttered attic._

"_Arthur told me that you had a whole bunch of heirlooms and stuff up here from the 1700 and 1800s, and that I could come take a look at them if I wanted to," Mattie explained, with a roll of the eyes._

_The blue eyed blonde made a funny face at the mention of the heirlooms. "You're actually interest in that shit? I know you're majoring in History or something like that, but dude, even Artie said that some of this stuff is really, really weird."_

"_I major in European History, Al," he muttered, picking up a leather bound book that had fallen out of the poor placed box. "And the weirder these things are, the better when it comes to this type of thing. Besides, as long as there aren't any torture devices or heterosexual porn from the Middle Ages, than I'm all for it."_

_Al shook his head at his long-time friend, obviously not impressed with Mattie's response. He had been hoping to convince his strange friend to play videogames with him. Nonetheless, the blue eyed man easily climbed up the rest of the ladder that led into the attic and sat down on a nearby rocking chair. A cloud of dust appeared the moment that Al sat down, causing Mattie to laugh at him._

"_So not cool, bro."_

_The comment was completely ignored by Mattie, except for a conveniently placed roll of the eyes that Al really should have expected. The strawberry blonde was easily scanning through the journal in his hands, not paying any attention to the easily entertained American. Al quickly tried to make himself a bit more comfortable – it was obvious that they were going to be up here for a while and he wasn't going to make his best friend face whatever ghosts were in this attic alone. _

_The attic was filled with all sorts of odd knick knacks, old furniture, and plenty of old family heirlooms from God knew how long ago. According to Arthur, the Kirkland family had been around for centuries, and he generally believed his older brother when it came to these things._

"_Hey, Al, can you read this for me?" Mattie asked, strangely cautious._

_The blue eyed blonde drew his gaze back to his close friend, immediately noticing the strange, confused look on his face. Mattie's wavy strawberry blonde hair was hiding his indigo eyes but that didn't matter as it was easy to tell that they were completely focused on the leather bound book in his hands._

"_Yeah, of course I can."_

_The strawberry blonde handed him the journal with only the slightest bit of hesitation._

_Baby blue eyes scanned the first page. "Am I hallucinating all of this?"_

"_So, you can see all of that too? Good, than I wasn't imagining all of that."_

* * *

"Ivan, Irunya, you made it! I was not sure after that lest letter you sent me."

The quiet conversation in Russian stopped and the two turned around to look at the normally quiet man, along with several others that had heard the outburst. Among those that remembered who he had, Mr. Williams was not known for being loud or even particularly welcoming. That was much more often than not left to the charismatic Mr. Bonnefoy. In fact, most were not able to recognize him as anything other than Mr. Bonnefoy's silent younger brother.

"Oh, Matvey, it has been forever since I was last able to see you!"

The tall blonde woman – Irunya – threw herself at the quiet man with a speed that most women could not manage underneath the layers of cloth and metal that the elaborate dresses were made of. Many of the surrounding women laughed softly as Mr. Williams easily returned the eager embrace. No overprotective younger brothers forced them apart. Ivan simply watched the two of them from the sidelines with a childish smile on his face. A passerby would have guessed that he was excited about the blooming courtship between his trusted friend and his beautiful sister.

"Now, Irunya, how about we take a stroll through my brother's gardens and you can tell me all about Miss Arlovskaya's terrible illness. Ivan, will you chaperone us?" Mr. Williams asked the tall, intimidating Russian man.

"Da, I would trust no one else with my older sister's innocence," was the simple response.

It was both the expected and the right thing to say. The last few people that had been paying attention to their conversation had focused back on their own conversations with the people standing close by. Even the trio of girls that had been staring at Ivan started to gossip about another young bachelor.

The more difficult part of their charade was now done and over with, and Mr. Williams automatically offered his arm to Irunya who graciously accepted it. The crowds slowly pated for them as they made their way to the open doors leading to the garden, with Ivan following behind them. Irunya outwardly appeared as if the approving looks had absolutely no effect on her but the strawberry blonde was able to feel the way that she trembled ever so slightly. He was having a hard time trying not to snap at them, but he pushed back his rage and his sadness.

It was not long before the warm summer evening's air surrounded them, along with plenty of bushes and bushes of red roses. No one else seemed to be touring through the gardens, most were much more content to stay inside and listen to the gossip. None of them relaxed though, at least not until they weren't able to hear any of the noises coming from the house.

"So, how is Natalia? I have not heard from her for months now," the quiet man asked, the excited, relieved tone gone from his voice.

"I do not know." Irunya let go of his arm, naturally gravitating towards the flowers, "I am not hearing a single word from her, not since Mother told me that she had sent word that she was sick, two months ago. It is… unlike her."

"That is because she is not truly sick, Sister. Mother and Mrs. Arlovskaya are no doubt plotting ways to keep her away." Ivan's harsh words were uncharacteristic and his normally childish smile was completely gone.

Mr. Williams placed a gentle hand on the tall man's arm. "Are you absolutely sure that they would do such a thing? There is no way that it could be something else?"

Ivan's shoulders dropped at the physical contact and his unearthly violet eyes were glued to his older sister's back. Not a word was said but the slightest shake of the head told Mr. Williams everything that he needed to know. Both men ignored the way that Irunya's shoulders started to shake, ever so slightly. She had more reason to be upset than either of them ever would.

Irunya wandered away further away from them, both of them silently watching her.

"You are no happy here, Matvey."

"What… what are you talking about?"

"My sister, she does not notice it. She would not understand it, not truly. But I notice the way you inwardly beg for a way out of all of this." The Russian gestured to the huge house behind them. "I notice the way your smile changes whenever you are here, compared to when you visit us. I am not blind. I know that the only place you want to be is back in the colonies, where you are allowed to do as you please, without anyone watching your every move."

Mr. Williams started walking off in a specific direction, and Ivan followed closely behind. "Are any of us truly happy? I wish for nothing more than to go back to the one place that I consider home and you are despised in this part of the world because of a war with your country. Irunya is forced to be apart from the one person that she will ever truly love, Lars is separated from his little sister, just as Gilbert is not able to contact his little brother because of a crime that he did not commit."

"But you can change that, da? It is a lot easier for you to move back to the colonies than it is for me to change the way people think of my country and its people or for Gilbert to convince the authorities that he is innocent.

"No… I can't. Not when Francis has asked every person in the port not to give me passage. It he wishes for me to stay here in France, than I will."

Ivan did not have a proper response as they continued to walk through the gardens with Mr. Williams confidently leading the way. After a while they stopped, in a hidden part of the garden that no one would have known about unless they had somehow stumbled over it or they had been shown it. Irunya could be seen somewhere in the distance, quietly mourning for Natalia but not in any sort of immediate danger.

The Russian was the first one to speak. "What is this place? I thought that…"

"When Francis first started his gardens many years ago, he planted both lilies and roses. He loves roses because of what they represent but lilies are truly his favourite flower. However, when the company came to visit, they always noticed the roses instead of his beloved lilies. So, he grew more roses. Now, they are what he is known for and he is unable to grow anything else. My brother is not truly happy here either, Ivan, and I am not about to leave him. Just as you would never be able to leave Irunya while she was hurting."

"I… I am sorry, Matvey."

The white, yellow, and orange flowers swayed in the warm summer breeze, completely oblivious to everything that was happening around them. All that mattered to them was the slowly setting sun that was filling the sky with oranges, reds, and purples regardless of whether one wanted it to or not. Few men and women bothered to glance through the windows to look at the beautiful sight. They were much too preoccupied with their intricate dance of words, looks, and clothes. The man who was the centre of attention was shamelessly flirting with a married woman, unaware of it all. A baby blue eyed blonde did notice it however, and took a moment to close his eyes and remember similar sights back in the place he considered home.

* * *

"_I can't believe this…"_

_The strawberry blonde looked up at Al, who was slowly flipped through the pages of the leather bound journal. It was amazing, what they had found and decidedly unbelievable too. Several boxes were open on the already cluttered floor of the attic. It was all evidence of Mattie having gone through all of them in an attempt to find something else – another clue._

"_What is it this time?" Mattie asked, cautiously._

"_We knew each other. Or rather the Alfred F. Jones of the past knew the Matthew Williams of the past. Artie and Francis introduced us," Al explained._

"_Really? To think that…"_

"_Yeah, now keep looking for more stuff like this, dude!"_

_Mattie rolled his indigo eyes at the blue eyed blonde for the millionth time that day but continued to look through the box – handling it all with extreme care. They had set up an easy rhythm between the sounds of Al flipping a page every once and a while, and Mattie rummaging through the cardboard boxes._

"_Al, I think I found something, and I believe that it's yours, or at least it was yours."_


	2. Untouched Wine Glass

****And I'm back once again. I can't really tell if I like this chapter or not. I really like how the next chapter has turned out so far though, but you'll have to wait a little while for that one.

Not many notes or anything for this. If anyone is wondering what a conservatory is though, it's a greenhouse, sunhouse, type of room with glass for the walls and roof, and is typically attached to a house by one wall. I thought that it was rather interesting... and something that Francis would have.

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Tear Me Apart  
**_Chapter 2: Untouched Wine Glass_

* * *

"I do not care if you and Francis have company here again this afternoon, Birdie. You and Francis were the ones that keep me locked away like some unawesome fairytale princess last night, so I can do as I please!"

"So, you would prefer to end up in some dirty jail cell, never to see the light of day again?" was Mr. Williams's easy response.

The blonde, almost platinum haired man pouted, his bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly (although he would completely deny it until the day that he died) but he continued to follow the quiet man down the grand staircase.

The large house seemed to be infinitively different compared to the way that it looked just the night before. Not even the memory of the people slowly moving throughout the large room remained in the house and it appeared that Mr. Bonnefoy had sent the majority of the staff home for the day. In fact, the only people that were anywhere in sight were the loud, platinum blonde man whose brown eyes had an almost reddish hue to them, and the quiet, strawberry blonde man who seemed impossibly petite for his age.

A small, pale hand slipped into the pocket of a pair of tight fitting pants. Smooth, worn metal immediately met the pale hand; it was an action that had been repeated many, many times over the years. Unfortunately for Mr. Williams, a pair of mahogany eyes caught the discreet motion.

"You are still carrying that useless thing around with you all of the time? You got it years ago now," the platinum blonde commented.

"It is simply a small comfort, and one that I am not willing to deny myself. Now, would you stay away from the conservatory this afternoon? It is not as if you will be forced to stay away from any other part of the house, so long as none of the guests see you."

"I suppose so, but believe me when I say that I do not like this, Birdie. The awesome me should not have to hide away in some unawesome house."

The two of them stopped walking as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

"I know, trust me, I know."

Both of them started to head their separate ways – the platinum blonde headed back up the stairs and Mr. Williams started across the large room. It was easy to tell that the platinum blonde man was upset and Mr. Williams could not honestly blame him for it when he had literally been locked away in a glorified prison for months now. The lack of contact with anyone other than the strawberry blonde and Mr. Bonnefoy was slowly turning him into a broken man.

"Gilbert, wait for a moment," the platinum blonde turned, the confusion obvious on his face, "Francis did not wish for me to inform you but one of the guests that he invited was Mr. Edelstein and he was forced to spend the night."

"Matthew," the name came out in a low and almost primal tone, "Where is he?"

"He had requested the room closest to the piano room on the third floor. I believe that he would still be there at this very moment."

And then Gilbert was gone. Mr. Williams was confident that his friend's legs would carry him to the room that he had been told about and then he would go talk to the man that he had known since childhood. Chances were that they would fight and then they would make up just like they had always done, like they had only ten months before now.

The strawberry blonde man turned back around without another word, heading towards the conservatory where his brother and his brother's guests were waiting ever so patiently for him.

At least one of them would have an interesting day.

~.~.~

"_What did you find?"_

_The question was completely innocent, and was simple enough but the strawberry blonde found that he was unable to put the answer in words. Instead, as those baby blue eyes stared at him, he held out the object that he had found so that Al was able to see it properly. It was a pocket watch. The metal was smooth, and worn from years and years of use despite the rust beginning to appear on its edges. Just as the blue eyed blonde was about to ask another question, it was opened, revealing a single name carved on the inside._

Alfred F. Jones.

_Silently, the blue eyed blonde picked up the exquisite pocket watch, in order to look at it a bit more carefully. He was almost immediately overcome with the urge to give it back to Mattie, despite it apparently being his own, and the strawberry blonde was even looking at it anxiously, as if he were afraid that Al was about to break it. The American's mind was filled with images of a tall, reddish blonde man absentmindedly reaching into his pants pocket. It was not difficult to figure out that he didn't own the worn pocket watch at one point in time._

"_I think it's yours, Mattie," the words were whispered, almost as if Al were afraid to say them._

"_What – what makes you say that? It has your name engraved into it," Mattie responded, the words harsher than they were intended. "Sorry."_

"_I can't say, not for sure. I just think that it's yours for some reason. It was the idea that I got, plus, my name is in your handwriting, just like the journal," Al lied, choosing not to describe the image that had imprinted itself in his mind._

_They both stopped for a brief moment, the implications of Al's name being engraved into something that Mattie had owned hitting both of them at once. Al's face slowly turned red as he realized that the Al and Mattie of the past could have very well of been in some sort of romantic relationship. Mattie, on the other hand, was nothing short of horrified – he had heard so many stories of the things that had happened to gays in that time period and none of them were good._

"_You keep looking for stuff, 'kay, Mattie? I'm going to read some more of this journal."_

* * *

The glorious summer sun shone through the glass walls of the conservatory, feeding the few plants that were inside. A glass of red wine sat on the table in front of Mr. Williams, seemingly matching the wine glass sitting on the table in front of Mr. Bonnefoy on the other side of the room. Only partially good natured arguing echoed through the glass room, although it was incredibly easy to spot the looks of barely masked irritation on both Mr. Kirkland's and Mr. Bonnefoy's faces. Mr. Williams, at the very least, was much more interested in looking at the scenery from his otherwise empty table than in listening to his brother argue about something stupid.

The chair across from the chair Mr. Williams loudly screeched as it was suddenly pulled out from the table, making the quiet man wince ever so slightly. That strange blue eyed blonde, the one that Mr. Kirkland had introduced to him the night before, plopped down on the chair without the slightest bit of grace. Their knees hit in the middle of the table as Mr. Jones brought the chair back to the table now that he was sitting in it.

"Good day, Matthew! I can call you Matthew, right? Because calling you Mr. Williams all of the time makes you seem so stuffy instead of the handsome man sitting in front of me. Oh, and of course, you can call me Alfred or even Al if you really want to," the man rambled, without a single care in the world.

Mr. Williams – Matthew – was almost completely without words. This man was talking to him so informally, almost as if they had met each other years ago instead of just the night before. He was surprised enough that Mr. Jones could remember him at all despite the events that had taken place the night before. Most had troubles remembering who he was 5 minutes after they had been introduced.

"Matthew, are you okay? Because you are looking a tad flushed at the moment."

"I am fine, Mr. Jones," the blue eyed blonde visibly wilted at the name, but no move was made to correct it, "Surely, Francis and your cousin are much better company than I am," Matthew commented.

"Artie and that Bonnefoy pervert are better company than you are? I absolutely refuse to believe this. I do not even know what it is that they are arguing about now. Besides, I had to come cheer you up because you looked so sad and lonely over here by yourself. I am the hero, after all!"

"There was no reason for you to do so. I was a bit bored, perhaps, but nothing more than that," he muttered, although it did nothing to help his reddening cheeks.

"I do not believe that for even a second."

Matthew did not have the heart to either confirm or deny those words. He was much more interested in watching the small white clouds that were rolling through the bright blue sky anyways. Mr. Jones was obviously enraptured with the strawberry blonde, his gaze never leaving those wandering indigo irises. There was peace for a single moment between the two of them, despite their family members practically yelling at each other on the other side of the conservatory.

"You're not from around these parts, are you?" Mr. Jones asked, a think, honeyed accented layering his voice.

The newly accented words almost threw Matthew into shock. "No, I am not. I grew up in the colonies, the town of Montreal, in fact. I actually lived there for close to two decades before my father died and Francis called me here. How… did you know?"

"So, you're a born and raised Canadian then," those indigo eyes brightened at the familiar name, "I'm actually from America, even if Artie said that I was from the southern colonies. I've only been gone for a few months now, and it already feels like a piece of me is missing, especially with there being so much unrest in the country. I can't even begin to imagine what it must be like for you, who has been away for a couple of years now."

"I am sorry to tell you that I cannot lie and tell you that it gets any better. I still miss those cold winters and then the warm summers, no matter how much I used to complain about both."

"Then I shall be missing the hot, southern weather until the next time that I get to experience them once again."

A pair of elegant, strawberry blonde eyebrows furrowed at the words and a small frown appeared on Matthew's face. The thick, honeyed accent that had been there just moments before had disappeared once again, leaving a slightly smoother way of speech than the English people preferred. He had no doubt that most would simply account this to a slight speech impediment or something else of the same nature. But now that Matthew had heard the thick (and somehow delightful) accent, he knew better.

"Why do you do that?" Matthew's question seemed innocent even to his own two ears.

"Do what exactly? Because I do a lot of different things and I am not certain that I can explain why I do all of them."

"I am talking about your accent. I know that I am not imagining things, Mr. Jones. I could clearly hear it just a few moments ago and now you are hiding it. Why?"

"It… it is stupid, really."

"I do not care if you think it is stupid." The words were blunt and to the point.

"Well, you see, a lot of people back in Britain still are not too pleased with the United States of America breaking away from the British Empire and all of that, so quite a few people give me dirty looks when they hear my accent."

"That is not stupid and there is no reason why you should believe that it is."

Baby blue eyes stared at Matthew in shock. Those softly spoken words had affected him in a way that Mr. Kirkland's lectures and assurances never had. The quiet man shrunk underneath the intense gaze, his cheeks reddening once again as he silently wondered if had said something that was completely out of line. That in itself was not an unusual occurrence for him, but he could not quite figure out just what he had said that would have been so inappropriate.

"I – I am sorry. I truly did not mean to offend you or anything like that. I really hope that you will forgive me for whatever it is that I said to offend you," Matthew apologized, his voice almost completely frantic before he started to bit his bottom lip.

"No, no, it is fine, Matthew, really!" Those baby blue eyes softened considerably. "I was simply surprised because no one has really even tried to understand it before, you know? I always have to explain it a bit more and even then most people just say that it is a stupid reason to attempt to hide my accent. They said something about people finding out no matter what I do, but it does not make much sense to me."

The sounds of soft laughter began to fill the conservatory and even Mr. Bonnefoy and Mr. Kirkland stopped arguing for a few moments to see just what had happened. Mr. Jones did not take notice of any of that though. The only thing that he could take notice of at that moment was the joyous look on Matthew's face as the strawberry blonde laughed. It made him want to hear it a thousand times over, no, even a million times over would not be enough. Nothing could ever compare to the sound of Matthew laughing and in the deepest corners of his mind and soul, he had to admit that he did not wish anything to be able to compare.

"Monsieur Jones, I believe that you have broken mon petit Mathieu. I have not seen him laugh like that since he was a young boy, many, many years ago," Mr. Bonnefoy spoke up, looking at the pair in amazement.

After a couple more moments, the quiet man stopped, the laughter tapering off easily.

"I did not mean to laugh at you, really. It is just that you were very, um, adorable with your hands flying all over the place while you tried to assure that it was not me, Mr. Jones… Alfred." The American beamed and indigo eyes looked into baby blue for the first time that day, "And… and I was just so relieved that I had not done anything to offend you."

Neither one of them noticed as Mr. Bonnefoy silently got out of his seat and started to head back inside the house with Mr. Kirkland following closely behind him. Both men appeared to be coherent and graceful despite the empty wine glasses sitting on their table.

In fact, they were much more interested in the person sitting in front of them. They were suddenly hyperaware of the way that their knees touched ever so slightly because of the small table and the sudden heat in the other's eyes. Matthew was infatuated with the way that Alfred sat leaning forward ever so slightly, as if he were about to eat up his every word. And Alfred could not help but think that the light shade of red dusting Matthew's pale cheeks from the unexpected attention was absolutely adorable.

"Are you always this cute or is it just me?" Alfred's words were barely audible, as he stared at Matthew in amazement.

"Wh-what are you talking about? 'Cute' is something that you call a young woman or a girl, not a man. Besides, I have been informed by many different people over the years that I look far too feminine to be considered truly attractive to anyone," Matthew explained, his eyes down cast as a bitter look crossed his face.

"They must be completely blind then. If you will not let me call you cute, then at least let me call you beautiful because you are, even if you cannot see for yourself."

Matthew's denial at the proposal was obvious, despite the honest grin that had found its way on to Alfred's face. The matter was dropped though as the blue eyed blonde realized that Matthew would more likely believe that the sky was bright red before he would believe that he was even slightest bit attractive. Instead, they started to talk about everything from their hometowns to the stifling social politics in Europe.

Neither of them noticed the sun as it slowly made its way across the sky and before they knew it, a servant came into the room to tell them that they had missed dinner.

"Good night, Alfred. I enjoyed talking with you," Matthew commented, with a small smile.

"I enjoyed talking with you too, Matthew. I really do hope that we will see each other again," was the American's answer.

"Will I not see you tomorrow?"

"Artie and I leave early tomorrow morning. I would love to stay but… I cannot."

"I-I see." Disappointment flashed through Matthew's indigo eyes.

"Good night, Matthew."

They exchanged a small smile filled with an emotion that only they could identify. Only a still full glass of wine was left in the conservatory as they left the conservatory before heading their own ways for the night.

* * *

"_So you've found it then. I was rather hoping that you wouldn't notice any of it."_

_Both of the young men looked up at the sound of the English accented voice, easily spotting the sandy blonde man who appeared to be at least a decade older than either of them. They had been so immersed in the journal and the stuff in the boxes that they hadn't even noticed the normally noisy man climbing up the ladder. _

"_What exactly are you talking about, Artie? Why would you want us to know about this when we're part of it? The hero wouldn't have freaked out or anything!" Al asked, staring at his older brother in confusion._

"_Because it's bloody embarrassing, that's why! The frog is the only one who really needed to know about some notorious pirate who happened to be my past reincarnation, despite any part that the two of you may have played on 'my' ship," the emerald eyed man ranted, a frown on his face._

"_I… think that you may be mistaken, Arthur," Mattie tried to reason with the man, "The journal that Al and I have been reading is about me, living as Papa's little brother and a French nobleman about 150 years ago."_

_A tense silence filled the room as they all tried to figure out just what was going on. _

_Al came to a conclusion first as he handed the leather bound journal to his older brother. "Can you read the little bit to us, Artie? Just… just in case."_

"_Alright then, but only because you asked. _'A man with sandy blonde hair and wide emerald eyes stared out at the wide open sea as the sun slowly set on the horizon. The sounds of his crew enthusiastically enjoying themselves in the mess hall filled his ears. He would not join them, not tonight – his appetite was non-existent.' _It's the same as it has always been, boys, so stop pulling my leg." The journal was carefully handed back to the American._

_Indigo eyes met baby blue in a silent understanding and Al started to read out loud. "Yeah, well, this is what I read. _'Tail coats and hoop dresses filled the large, open room, slowly making their way from one side of the room to the other. Quiet whispers made themselves known, both deliberately and unintentionally; the words were an intricate dance all on their own.' _Right, Mattie?"_

_The strawberry blonde nodded easily. It was, in fact, the same thing that he had read when he had found the leather bound journal only a few hours before. Had it really only been hours? It felt like it had been a whole lifetime ago._

"_I-I… Francis phoned here just a little while ago, he would like you to go back home for dinner, Matthew. He… he has another one, a journal, I mean. It was in his point of view for us, so I let him keep it. I have reason to believe that it's in Alfred's narrative."_

"_Alright, I'll be back here tomorrow morning, Al."_

"_See you, Mattie!"_


	3. Warm, Autumn Rain

Ah, and another week has passed. Here is Chapter 3 in all of it's glory. There's a little bit of a time skip in this, but I have to admit that I enjoy this chapter. Unlike the next chapter, which I completely adore or at least I adore a good half of it. I really do hope that you enjoy it!

Thanks to everyone whose reviewed, followed, and favourited, both on the last chapter and the chapter before that one because I forgot to do it last time.

Read, Enjoy, and Review!

* * *

**Tear Me Apart  
**_Chapter Three: Warm, Autumn Rain_

* * *

Grey, dreary clouds filled the normally vibrant sky; it was one of the first signs of the rapidly changing weather. The thorn filled bushes were devoid of the romantic flower that had brightened up the household merely a month ago. Nearby trees shook slightly from the slight breeze, their leaves falling every once in a while, and now and then it would look like it was trying to rain. A strawberry blonde man watched it all with only a single pane of glass separating him from the outside world.

The outside world was not the interest of the two other men sitting in the room though. Gilbert was talking about one thing or another – most like a rendition of something that had happened to him years ago – while his pale hands moved around wildly with his words. The other man, a tall European man with strangely styled light brown hair, was smoking a cigar, seemingly ignoring the Prussian man.

"Gilbert, would you shut up? It is obvious that Matthew is not paying attention to you or your little story and frankly, I do not actually care about the time that you got Mr. Bonnefoy drunk and convinced him to walk around naked for the better part of a day," the strange brunet snapped.

The platinum blonde's disappointment was almost palpable. "But Birdie always enjoys this story, no matter how many times that I've told it to him. The awesome me always has awesome stories to tell!"

"You are nothing but an ungrateful prick who is unable to tell right from wrong."

"And you are just a broke bastard!"

"Would the two of you stop arguing? If you continue to act like that, then I will be forced to say that both of you are ungrateful children. Gil, I really do enjoy listening to your stories but I cannot say that I am in the mood for them right now. And Lars, I would have said something about it myself had it been bothering me." The words were barely above a whisper but they cut and stopped the argument in its tracks.

The room lapsed into almost complete silence; the only sound being Lars as he occasionally blew out the smoke from the thick cigar in his hands. Matthew had not moved even a single inch from the old styled window seat, and had not even bothered to spare a single glance towards his two friends. In fact, if Gilbert had not been talking, the Canadian probably would not have even noticed that they were sitting there. And it would not have been the first time that something along those lines had happened in recent weeks.

Even this room – Matthew's personal bedroom – seemed to be out of sorts. There were the faint hints of dust coating almost every surface in the normally spotless room and clothes from the days before were laid helplessly across the back of a chair in the corner. The sheets on the indigo eyed man's bed were pulled back in disarray as if Matthew had just crawled out of bed minutes ago. None of this could be considered even remotely normal, especially for Matthew who tried to keep things as neat as possible for his own peace of mind.

"You know, we are not going to wait around for you to stop moping forever. According to Gilbert, you have barely even left this room in a month, which would be fine, but you refuse to say why you are so damn upset in the first place," Lars commented.

"And as much as I hate to say it, he is right this time, Birdie. You may not like it here in this house, despite the awesome me's presence but you have not even gone to the conservatory and the last time that I checked, you love it in there," Gilbert added.

For the first time all day, the strawberry blonde man looked away from the dreary skies. His hair that had always hung in perfect waves, easily framing his face, was slightly frizzy from the lack of care. Even that one little curl that always fell in front of his face no matter what he did with it looked slightly out of sorts. There were dark circles underneath his indigo eyes, revealing just how little sleep the Canadian had been getting. He looked like a mere shadow of the man that he had been just weeks before.

"I… I do not know what the problem is or at least, I do not want it to be what I believe it is." Matthew's bottom lip found its way between his teeth as he anxiously bit at it, "I do not think that I could stop it though, no matter how much I might want to."

"I knew that this was going to happen eventually." A small trail of smoke escaped from Lars's pale lips. "You feel that you betrayed Irunya and the courtship between the two of you because you bedded a whore from the local whorehouse, didn't you? I must say that I am proud that you finally got around to doing it, and that you have absolutely nothing to be ashamed about. It happens to the best of us."

"That… is not what happened," Matthew responded, trying his best to avoid Gilbert's intense gaze. "It is not even close."

"You can tell us, dummkopf. It is not as if we can judge you after everything that you have done for us. Even if you are secretly a serial killer, I would not rat you out to anyone if you did not want me to." The Prussian's words were true and honest.

"I would, Gilbert, I really, truly would but if I admit it to the two of you then I admit it to myself. I am incapable of doing that."

Indigo eyes met mahogany eyes in a silent understanding. There were just some things that you did not want to admit to yourself – that you could not afford to admit. Sometimes, it could mean anything from the destruction of a person's state of mind to the end of a relationship with the person that they held closest to them. And then that perfect picture that was there before could completely shatter, leaving behind something else altogether and if it was hideous or beautiful was up to that person to decide.

"I cannot say for sure that I even vaguely understand what the two of you are going on about, but my advice is that sometime, something amazing can pass you by if you are completely immersed in your pretty little thoughts. Been there, done that," Lars commented, nonchalantly.

The resulting silence was both tense and surprised as both Matthew and Gilbert turned their attention towards their strange Dutch friend. Neither of them seemed to be able to respond to Lars's new found wisdom. Rather, they were unsure if they were to completely bypass words, start laughing at the Dutchman, and dismiss the honestly spoken words as complete and utter shit. The brown haired man rolled his eyes – the surprise and the disbelief was as clear as day on their faces.

"Is it really that difficult for the two of you to believe that I am capable of saying something even halfway intelligent?"

"I-I am sorry about that, Lars. You are right, truly you are." A stray hand moved to push the strawberry blonde hair behind a pale ear. "This… thing though, it is a sin – one of the worst of them too. There is no way that I will go to Heaven if I admit this to myself. The lowest pits of Hell will be the only place acceptable for one such as me."

"All of us have sinned, Matthew. If someone such as you, who has helped so many and has such a pure heart, goes to Hell, then I do not wish to go to Heaven," Lars informed the Canadian.

"That is right! Besides, I am sure that Heaven is going to be full of boring, not awesome pricks so who would want to go there anyways?" the platinum blonde added.

"Thank you two so, so much." The words slipped out easily, as if they had to be said.

Matthew looked at Gilbert and then moved his gaze to Lars, seeing nothing but sincerity in the intense mahogany eyes and the calm green eyes. Neither of them believed that it mattered; he knew that they would never judge him, no matter what it was that he told them. How was it that he had found such loyal friends in such a horrible place? Matthew knew without a single doubt that any of his small group of friends would respond in a similar way. And truly, they were all that he really had in this place.

"About a month ago, I met Alfred Jones. He is truly unlike any other person that I have met over the years, unlike anything that I could have ever imagined. He may seem like a loud, obnoxious idiot but he is not. His smile draws me in and he even cares for the small, homeless child on the side of the street, begging for money. He completely fascinates me but…" Matthew's explanation tapered off, as he struggled to find the right words.

"But you want to bed him, or perhaps even the other way around. You want nothing more than to feel his bare skin against your own and to know that he is experiencing the same lust that you are. You want to lose yourself in him, even if it means your own demise. And here I thought that you did not hold attractions for anyone, Birdie!" the Prussian elaborated, the look on his face all too knowing.

"Yes, I want him so much that he has almost become a vital part of me. Even if I technically only talked to him for a single afternoon and have not seen him since."

The Canadian and the Prussian were so caught up in their conversation that they did not notice the growing hatred and fear in Lars's normally calm, green eyes.

* * *

"_Mattie, you're here! Come on, let's go up to the attic to look through some more – whoa, why do you look like shit? Did Francis piss in your cereal this morning or something?" Al asked, as he took a good look at his close friend._

_The strawberry blonde scowled at the blue eyed blonde but easily stepped inside the house. The American stared as the thin jacket that Mattie had been wearing was peeled off and his shoes were kicked into the corner. It was in this completely innocent and normal action that Al began to see just what his past self had seen in Mattie. _

_How was it that he had never noticed those lean, strong muscles in the Canadian's back and legs from hours and hour of playing hockey? _

_Or the way that his hair perfectly framed his face, even when it was a bit of a mess?_

"_No, Papa did not 'piss in my cereal' as you so eloquently put it. I told him about finding the journal yesterday and he decided to spend all night telling me about the life that he and Arthur had read about. I also found out a lot of things about both Arthur and Papa that I would have preferred not to," Mattie explained, as a shudder went down his back._

"_Really, broski? Because I tried getting Artie to tell me all night last night and he wouldn't say a single word!"_

"_Trust me when I say that it's extremely traumatizing and not… just for them."_

_Al's bottom lips started to jut out as they slowly made their way back up the cluttered attic. Baby blue eyes continued to follow the thin, lean body. The American fought the sudden urge to reach out and grab Mattie – there was no doubt that he would end up flat on his back, nursing a concussion and a wounded pride, no matter how much he wanted to. The strawberry blonde's right hook was legendary and many a pervert (most their friends, if he was being completely honest) had been on the receiving end of it over the years._

_A scowl formed on the American's face as his older brother suddenly walked out of his bedroom wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and an old, baggy t-shirt. How many times over the years had Mattie mentioned sheepishly that that was one of his favourite looks – his absolute favourite being the boxers without the shirt? Mattie anxiously bit at his bottom lip, completely unaware of the thoughts going through his friend's mind._

"_Oh, Matthew, you're here already, are you? I was under the impression that you wouldn't be here for a few more hours still. Did you get the journal from Francis last night?" the green eyed man asked, seemingly unconcerned with what he was wearing._

"_No, I wasn't able to. I told that it seemed like the two of you were the only ones who would be able to read about your past life in that journal… and well, he told me to tell you that he's typing it up, regardless of what you think you can do about it," the Canadian admitted, shamefully._

"_That frog! I do apologize, but I will have to talk to the two of you later on. I need to beat a bit of sense into that idiotic pervert."_

_And then the English man was gone, quickly disappearing somewhere down the stairs in a small fit. At first, it seemed as if Arthur was only going downstairs so he could grab the phone and call the 'idiotic pervert'. However, that theory was smashed into little, tiny pieces as the front door slammed behind the green eyed blonde. Al gaped as he realized that his older brother was running around the __neighbourhood__ in nothing more than his boxers and a t-shirt. At the very least, Arthur was going to be completely embarrassed by the time that he realized it himself._

"_Dude, is the Frenchie really typing that thing up? Because if it's anything like yours then it's kinda, I don't know, private," Al asked._

"_Unfortunately. Papa isn't exactly a private person, eh? He actually started typing on his laptop right before I left so it isn't as if he's about to change his mind about it either," Mattie confirmed with an easy roll of his indigo eyes._

"_Ha ha ha, Frenchie is a champ. Come on, Mattie, let's go up to the attic!"_

* * *

The strawberry blonde man was sitting in a large cushioned chair with a cup of black tea in his hands. His feet were beside him on the chair while his polished shoes were shoved underneath the small table in front of him. Water was streaming down the windows as the weather declined, but Matthew barely even noticed that it was raining. His mind was somewhere else completely, far, far away from his body in that moment. The porcelain cup was lifted to light pink lips every once in a while but the motions almost seemed mechanical in a way, the cup completely missing his mouth now and then.

Silently, a shorter blonde man walked in the small room with a glass of fine wine, hiss blue eyes glued on the strawberry blonde. He gracefully sat down in the matching chair on the other side of the small table, his feet staying in his shoes and on the carpeted floor. Matthew did not bother to acknowledge his brother's sudden appearance in the small sitting room. If one did not know better, they would have thought that the strawberry blonde had not noticed the other man at all.

"Are you going to spend the rest of the evening in here moping, Mathieu? Surely you cannot be that upset," Mr. Bonnefoy asked, pacing his glass of wine on the table.

Indigo eyes moved over to look at the Parisian. "Regardless of what Gilbert must have told you, I am not moping. I am simply thinking about something that happened earlier in the day and what effect it might have on my life. Something I am sure that you know nothing about."

"Mathieu, I do not need to speak with Gilbert of all people to know that my little frère is moping about something."

Thin shoulders dropped at the unexpected words and Matthew suddenly became incredibly interested in the tea in his cup. Three quarters of the tea was already long gone, much to his surprise. Had he really been sitting in this room for that long? It had not seemed like that much time had passed while he had just been sitting there.

"Do I really seem like that horrible of a brother to not notice that you have not been well for weeks now? Because I have, no matter what you think of me." Those bright blue eyes were practically begging him.

"I… I apologize, I did not mean to imply that I thought that. It is just that you always seem so preoccupied with the things that are going on in your life – no matter how petty a lot of it seems at times. It almost seems like you are completely unaffected by Jeanne's death when you have almost completely lost yourself in silly social politics."

It was Mr. Bonnefoy's turn to deflate this time around as those bright blue eyes dropped guiltily to the wine glass sitting on the table. "I had not realized that… I did not mean to do such a thing and I know that I can make absolutely no excuses for almost everything that you tell me is the absolute truth. Jeanne's death has affected me much more than it looks like it has on the surface and much more than anyone had guessed. I simply refuse to let anyone see that I am in mourning."

Both of them fell silent as Mr. Bonnefoy finished talking, unsure of what else should be said at a time like this or if there was even anything left to be said. Nothing that either of them could say would fix the slowly growing chasm between the older and younger brothers – only time could truly fix what had been done. Or time could damage it completely, with not even a chance of it ever becoming whole again. Neither of them was quite sure on how to move forward from this or even which path would fix it or make it even worse.

"Mathieu, I wish for you to accompany me to Antonio's. I leave next week to Spain. You do not have to accompany me, of course, but I would… appreciate it if you would at least consider it," Mr. Bonnefoy offered, his eyes glued to the deep red liquid in his glass.

"Francis… I…."

"What is it, Mathieu?"

"I would absolutely love to accompany you to Mr. Carriedo's next week. Thank you for inviting me."

Matthew offered his older brother a small smile that was gratefully returned by the bright eyed blonde. The rift was still there between them, still gaping and large enough that either of them could fall into it with only a little bit of effort. It was a start though, something more than either of them could have asked for. At the very least, it probably wouldn't make things worse than they already were.

* * *

"_It sure started coming down, didn't it, Mattie?" the blue eyed blonde asked, looking out of the small, circular window in the attic. _

_Mattie looked up from the box that he was looking through at that moment to see water easily streaming down the small window. Both of them could hear it thundering down on the rooftop, almost completely deafening now that they were paying attention to it. The slightly cold but still clear weather from earlier that morning was a thing of the past, leaving them with something almost akin to a hurricane._

"_Yeah, it really is," the Canadian responded, barely audible over the rain on the rooftop._

_The leather bound journal was closed abruptly as Al stood up from the old chair. "In order to combat this horrible weather, we're going downstairs to make some amazingly delicious hot chocolate!"_

"_You mean that I'm going to make both of us some of that amazingly delicious hot chocolate that you mentioned?"_

"_Of course, the hero can't make his own hot chocolate! And besides, you make the absolute best hot chocolate."_

_Mattie smiled softly at his best friend as he quickly climbed down the ladder, as if his very life depended on it. The strawberry blonde followed behind him although with not nearly as much enthusiasm. Al would stop every once in a while to look behind him and make sure that the Canadian was still following him. This was something that they were both used to. It was something that was mundane and typical for them, nothing like the storm of words that were completely changing their lives. And they were content for it to stay the same for just a little bit longer. Even if Mattie had a worn, smooth pocket watch hidden away in his pants pocket. _


	4. Sunny Fruit Orchard

I can't say that I really believe it. I only got 2 reviews for the last chapter, and although they were both wonderful (thanks once again K-Ojousama and vc103221 :)), it's just a bit disappointing at times. I got a wonderful response for the first chapter but it seems like the feedback is dropping... So, if you could review, even to tell me that 'I like pie' or that you didn't think a part of the chapter flowed right or something, I would love you forever. Mhmm, forever.

Regardless, here's the 4th Chapter! I hope that you enjoy it just as much as I did. Yes, yes, I'll leave you alone to read it now.

I don't own Hetalia, I'd be rich if I did. As I'm not swimming in money... well, you get the point.

* * *

**Tear Me Apart  
**_Chapter Four: Sunny, Fruit Orchard_

* * *

"Mathieu, you cannot still be upset with me. You must admit that it is not difficult to forget about you at times," Mr. Bonnefoy muttered, frowning at his younger brother.

"And as my older brother, you are not supposed to forget about me, regardless of how easy it may seem!" the normally quiet man insisted.

The carriage fell back into a relative silence, the only sounds being the horse pulling the carriage in front of them. The Parisian frowned but finally gave up trying to convince Matthew that forgetting him at the hotel they had spent the night at was not as bad as it really sounded. The younger man had been the one who was forced to sit in the lobby of the hotel for just over an hour, after all, hoping that they would eventually come back. There was no point in trying to convince that at least Mr. Bonnefoy had not forgotten about him for longer.

Matthew, on the other hand, had completely forgotten the event, at least for the moment. His indigo eyes were glued to the beautiful green, mountainous landscape around them and he was thoroughly enjoying the scenery as the carriage moved past it. It was so different from the climate back home, and yet so similar at the same time.

It was not that he did not notice Mr. Bonnefoy pouting in the seat across from him; it was just that he no longer cared. His brother would pout no matter what actions he took until the whole event was put behind them. In other words, when Mr. Bonnefoy forgot that it had ever happened in the first place. It would most likely take a few more hours at the very most.

Suddenly, the horses began to slow down and a large house appeared as they turned around a corner. Vegetable gardens filled at good third of the land around the house and the plants were already missing a large majority of their fruit, despite the currently warmer weather. An orchard could be seen almost behind the house, filled with many different types of fruit trees. As the house slowly got bigger and bigger, it was easy to tell that it was a good size bigger than Mr. Bonnefoy's residence. It was aging though, despite the love and care that had obviously been put into its upkeep over the years.

A well-dressed man was waiting for them at the front of the house, with a look of barely masked irritation on his face.

"Mr. Bonnefoy, Mr. Williams, I hope that you had a nice trip here. I will get someone to grab your luggage for you. The tomato bastard is waiting for the two of you in the sitting room," the man informed them.

Matthew blinked blankly at the words that did not sound any better as they slowly repeated themselves in his mind. Had this man, who appeared to be some sort of servant, perhaps even the butler, actually referred to Mr. Carriedo as a… 'tomato bastard'? Maybe his mind was just playing tricks on him.

"It is nice to know that you have not changed since the last time that we met, Lovino! Although, I must admit that you have grown a few inches since then… and you have filled out quite nicely," Mr. Bonnefoy commented, as he climbed out of the carriage with ease.

A casual arm was placed over the irritated man's shoulders, confusing Matthew even further. Just what was Mr. Bonnefoy trying?

"Get away from me, you wino bastardo! Keep your dirty, perverted hands off of me!"

The arm was quickly shrugged off, and the servant almost looked as if he wanted nothing more than to hit Mr. Bonnefoy.

"You should not use such a dirty language when you are around polite company, Lovino. What do you think Antonio would say if he saw you harassing his precious guests?"

The Italian looked around the area for a moment before spotting Matthew nervously climbing out of the carriage. "Wh-what? That is your fratello, wino bastardo! If you consider him polite company than you must be a nun. Now come on, wino bastardo and wino bastardo #2, the tomato bastardo is probably getting worried, the idiot."

Mr. Bonnefoy let out a strange sounding laugh as Lovino almost ran into the house, an odd curl on the side of his head bouncing slightly as he moved. Matthew quickly followed behind him, determined not to be left behind with his brother when he was like this. He had been around the Frenchman enough over the past couple of years to know that bad things happened when that laugh appeared. Women were groped and flirted with when everyone else in the general vicinity was left confused and ever so slightly jealous.

The inside of the house did not seem to be quite as well cared for as the outside of the house was. There were oddly shaped cracks in the walls every once in a while, and partially broken decorations were lying on old table and stands. A bookshelf was almost completely missing any books that may have sat on its shelves at one point in time. One of the only things that seemed to be in good condition was a rather new painting of Mr. Carriedo sitting up tall in an old styled chair with Lovino standing behind him.

"Francis, it really is nice to see you again after all this time, mi amigo! Ah, and this must be your hermanito – Mateo Williams, was it?" a tall, Spaniard greeted them as they walked into the sitting room.

"I must say that the feeling is recuperated, Antonio. If only I were able to say the same about a certain blonde friend of ours. It seems that his troublemaking ways are not so… fun, when you are on the receiving end," Mr. Bonnefoy responded, sitting down gracefully on a small conversation couch across from Mr. Carriedo.

Matthew hastily sat down on a small chair, not wanting to feel awkward standing with the help. Lovino stayed by the door, looking as if he wanted to be able to leave at a moment's notice. It was difficult to miss the bright grin that Mr. Carriedo had sent the man as he stayed in the room along with the scowl Lovino gave him in return.

"A blonde friend of ours? Um, he gets in a lot of trouble… Lovi, do you know who it is?" the Spaniard asked, obviously.

"It's the potato bastard's older brother, obviously."

"Ah, Gilbert! But he told me that he was going to go to Timbuktu when he left my house the last time. And I thought that he was running away from the Prussian authorities still!"

Mr. Bonnefoy gave him a small smile. "Oui, he is indeed still running from the Prussians but that did not deter him in the least from taking up a semi-permanent residence in one of my guest rooms. He is under the impression that they will not think to find him in rich Frenchman's house, regardless of any contact we may have had prior to what happened."

"Ah, I see! So, what type of trouble is he getting into then? It must not be too bad if you and the help are the only company he has in that big house of yours! At least I have Lovi to keep me entertained."

A small snort could be heard from around the doorway, as Lovino half listened to the conversation. Matthew could almost see the Italian looking over at him as he did so.

The Canadian's attention began to waver though as the two older men began to talk about things that he had no interest in. Instead, his mind began to wander to a topic that he held a lot of interest in – much to his own disgust and embarrassment. A man began to form in front of his eyes, a couple of inches taller than he was. Messy golden blonde hair adorned the top of his head, perfectly complimenting the sun-kissed skin that was just barely visible with the nicely pressed clothes that he was wearing. And then the man's head turned, revealing those beautiful baby blue eyes, filled with an unknown heat, that had been haunting his dreams for weeks now – both the good and the bad ones.

He quickly erased the image from his mind as he realized just what he was doing. He could not allow those thoughts to race through his mind or even slowly appear as if they had always belonged there. It was a sin to think of those types of things, never mind what would happen to him if those things somehow became reality one day. Surely, Alfred would push him away and then immediately contact the authorities who would come to arrest him. He would never see the light of day once more.

No, it was better if these twisted daydreams remained idle fantasies.

"Come on, wino bastardo #2, I will show you to your room for your stay while these two idiots go and get drunk. I do not think that they will miss our company."

* * *

_Darkness surrounded Al, and not a single thought was going through his mind other than how very comfortable he was at that very moment. There was some sort of weight on top of his chest but it seemed rather distant and far away… plus he rather enjoyed the odd sense comfort that it brought. So, he decided to stay right where he was, floating in and out of consciousness. _

_Two coffee mugs were sitting on the table in front of the coach, but Al knew, somehow, that Arthur would most likely put them away for him – like he always did._

"_Al, are you awake?" the strawberry blonde muttered, from his place on top of the blue eyed blonde. _

_The only response that Mattie received was a half muttered, half moaned sentence of complete and utter gibberish. Emerald green eyes watched carefully as the Canadian turned so he was facing the blue eyed blonde and placed a soft kiss on Al's forehead before settling back into the comfortable embrace. The Englishman hesitated for a single moment, almost walking away from the scene before staying right where he was, rooted to the very floor. He could not let it go – not when he had almost figured it all out._

"_How long have you actually been in love with my younger brother, Matthew?" The words sounded desperate, as if Arthur was looking for an answer other than the obvious one._

_Mattie almost jumped off of the couch and Al at the sound of the unexpected voice. He relaxed for about a second as he noticed Arthur standing over the back of the couch before his mind finally comprehended the words that had just come out of the Brit's mouth._

_It was almost funny how the Canadian shrunk into Al's embrace, making himself seem smaller and subconsciously seeking comfort from the American. Mattie didn't seem to care about that though, as he tried to think about how to answer Arthur's question properly. His head was still cloudy from the nap that he had just woken up from._

"_Forever, maybe," was the slow response, "Maybe forever and a half, if everything from the journal is actually true."_

_A sharp inhale came from the green eyed man standing behind the couch, leaving Mattie with a small but knowing smile on his face. The strawberry blonde easily let his head drop back onto Al's shoulder, the effort to keep it up quickly becoming way too much. Al muttered something unintelligible before shifting ever so slightly and bringing his second arm up around Mattie's waist._

_The words that he had just heard were dismissed as a somewhat crazy dream, inspired by his recent thoughts._

* * *

"I did not once dare to imagine that you would be here."

Matthew turned slightly to see the tall, blonde man walking up to him, enthusiasm in each step. He fought the urge to pinch himself for if this really was some sort of twisted dream than he did not truly want it to end. Not when the American was smiling at him like that and his baby blue eyes were even more beautiful than he had remembered them.

And he had pictured those eyes in his mind many, many times both willingly and not.

The morning sun shone through the branches of the fruit trees in the orchard, bright and warm despite the slightest bit of a cold autumn's breeze that came along with it. Through the fruit trees, a clear blue sky could be seen with the smallest wisps of white cloud that were way too high in the sky to present any problems. The world around them suddenly seemed bright, richer, and more vibrant than it had ever seemed before. And the soft trill of a bird's song could be heard a little ways a way, singing good morning to the still waking Earth.

"And I did not think that you would be here except for in my wildest dreams," Matthew responded, his words carrying a lot more weight than he had intended.

Those baby blue eyes brightened at the words, at the sound of an acceptance instead of the inevitable rejection. Delight was reflected as fear and resignation in matching eyes of a darker shade. The Canadian was nothing if not cautious. Yet those indigo eyes stayed glued on the blue eyed blonde as he slowly walked in circles around the quieter man.

And yet, not a bit of Matthew's fear was reflected in his posture. In fact, it told a very different story.

"One really should be a bit more optimistic sometimes. It is not always bad things that happen, good things happen too," Alfred informed the strawberry blonde man.

Alfred stopped right in front of the Canadian, not even a foot away from him. Electricity seemed to silently flow through the air and only the two men were able to tell that it was there at all. Not that there seemed to be any other people around at this time of the day. The two of them were the only ones who would have thought to go for a walk through the orchards at dawn.

Matthew found himself thanking the fates that this was happening now compared to later on in the day, when there would be more people around. He was well aware that neither of them would have been able to hold back these vague half-hidden answers even if they were in polite company. Not when Alfred was making it clear that he had been going through the same thing over the past month or so.

"I feel that if I am more pessimistic than I will enjoy the good things more when they do happen. Which I have to admit does not happen very often, although it does seem like my luck has been changing lately, Alfred."

The sun around them was growing brighter, but neither of them could see anything other than the person right in front of them. That unknown emotion hidden away in the American's baby blue eyes was more than enough to completely consume the both of them right then and there, along with at least some, if not all, of Matthew's fears.

A pale hand reached up to a clothed chest, shocking both of them with its movement. A shock ran through Matthew's fingertips and down his arm into his chest but he did not dare to move it now that it was there. He could feel the faint beating of Alfred's heart this way, and it was easy to tell that neither of them wanted it to move.

"What is this?" the question was barely audible, and neither of them was quite sure who had spoken it.

Regardless of who had been the one to ask, Matthew answered it. "Lust, I believe. One of the Seven Deadly Sins and with another man, no less. If we are not imprisoned and killed for this then I do not know what will happen. Surely, if we do… continue this, we will find ourselves in the depths of Hell one day."

"For some reason, I don't believe that it'll be all that bad as long as you're there with me, Matthew."

A black, leather glove was peeled off of a tanned, callused hand before it was placed directly on top of a certain pale hand, resting on Alfred's chest. Both of them quickly inhaled at the foreign tough and the sudden feeling of skin to skin contact that they had been craving for over a month now. Neither of them made a sign to move. The loss of touch at that particular moment would have most likely devastated them both while any more would have driven them to point of complete insanity.

The sudden appearance of Alfred's honeyed accent was doing much more than just driving Matthew insane though. He was well aware that it was a sign that the American trusted him in a way that he did not even trust his own brother, by the looks of it. And it was because of this that the indigo eyed man slowly turned his hand around and let their fingers intertwine with each other before letting the linked hands fall away from that strong, toned chest.

"No, I suppose that it really would not be such a bad place, as long as you were by my side," Matthew agreed, almost silently.

A soft smile graced Alfred's face, filling Matthew with that strange emotion once again. Lust, it had to be lust. What else would make him want to completely ravish the man in front of him and then let the man ravish him in return? Even when they were both well aware that anything more than this would make them beg for more and more.

"Oh, bloody Hell!"

The sudden curse had them jumping away from each other, overly aware of what had just happened between them, even if the words themselves had never actually been spoken. Matthew's fear was quickly reawakened and he mentally cursed himself for falling into such an obvious temptation. Even Alfred, who had always seemed so reassured of himself in the past, looked afraid of just who might be coming through the orchard, and just what they might have to say about him and Matthew.

"It is your own fault for insisting that we come out here to find your wayward cousin, cher. At least mon petit frère has the decency to stay inside in his room on such a cold morning," a second voice replied.

Two blonde men slowly became visible in the distance; an Englishman and a Parisian who were most definitely scowling at each other.

A look was exchanged between the American and the Canadian and they slowly started to walk towards their family members as if that was what they had been doing from the very beginning. And to the outside world, that was all that it would ever appear to be. But there was something else there, something that had most definitely not been there before this morning. It was an understanding, if not something more than that.

"What is this about Matthew having the decency to stay inside on such a beautiful morning? He has been outside with me for the last hour or so, if not longer, Mr. Bonnefoy," Alfred asked, sending the Frenchman a charismatic smile.

"Yes, frog, your brother is clearly standing right there in front of us…"

* * *

"_Al, what do you think this journal is? There's no way that it can all just be a coincidence," Mattie asked, absentmindedly sipping on his second cup of hot chocolate._

_The blue eyed blonde looked up at the Canadian from the leather bound journal that was lying in his hands. Both of them were sitting on opposite ends of the old yet extremely comfortable couch in the living room. Mattie was drinking a cup of hot chocolate while Al slowly flipped through the journal. The thing hadn't left his hands since they had woken up from their sudden afternoon nap not long ago._

"_I… don't know. I was kinda thinking that it was one of those 'old magic' things that Artie used to tell us stories about years and years ago. I know that he had told us that they weren't real but what if they were and he didn't know it?" Al answered, enthusiastically._

"_I…" the words seemed to completely disappear as Mattie lost himself in thought._

"_You… forgot about them, didn't you? Artie used to tell us them all of the time! And you say that I'm the forgetful one."_

"_It's not that I forgot about them, Al… it's just that I couldn't remember anything about them, at least not properly. And then you mentioned it and now I can remember all of it, the way that it's supposed to be…. I must sound like I'm talking gibberish, eh?"_

_Al quickly shook his head as they fell back into silence. Thoughts of 'old magic' filled their minds, as they contemplated the possibilities. They were stories about the fae, and spirits that were constantly causing trouble for other, about objects that cursed people to horrible fates and other objects that granted someone's biggest wish. Nothing like the stories that other children had been told throughout their childhood._

"_Hey Mattie, I want you to take the journal to your house tonight, so that you get the chance to read it! It's not fair if only the hero gets to read it, after all."_

_The subject was carefully and subtly avoided, and Mattie smiled at his friend._

"_Thanks Al, I really have been wondering what's got you so immersed in it."_


	5. A Crowded Room

Damn, I have to admit that this is the longest chapter than I've ever written up... and the next chapter happens to be even longer. Not quite sure how I managed that one.

Oh, and I'm very, very happy with all of the reviews that I got - and the amount of people that like pie or even watermelon in one case! Seven reviews compared to the two that I got on the chapter before? I did more than just triple it. I do hope that I get just as many reviews for this chapter though, but I don't really want to feel like I'm begging for them...

I do have a reason why you should review though! Not to spoil anything, but in the next chapter there might be a little bit of more sexual content. I can change it if people want but you have to review to tell me so. If no one complains, then I'll post the one that I have prepared already next week.

Guest: The journal is, in fact, Matthew's. You may have noticed that none of the scenes just have Alfred in it. And I can't tell you more about the "old magic" or the journals! That would ruin the surprise. Anyways, I'm really glad that you like it and thanks for the review. :)

Don't own APH.

Read and Review!

* * *

**Tear Me Apart  
**_Chapter Five: A Crowded Room_

* * *

There seemed to be nothing about this place that made any sense, and it was not just the groups of people around Matthew that did not speak either English or French. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that his older brother was actually piss drunk and was feeling up some blonde woman that had a bitter scowl on her face. Or maybe it was the blonde haired girl who was attached to his own arm, muttering about something one or other in what sounded like German. Although, Matthew thought that the fact that Mr. Carriedo would not let go of Lovino for even a second was explanation enough.

"Can you see him? I am certain that he is somewhere around here. He has to be," the blonde girl asked him in English, looking around the room once more.

"I really am sorry but I just cannot seem to find the man that you described to me. It almost appears as if he just vanished off of the face of the Earth altogether," the Canadian responded, joining her in her desperate search.

It did not really come as a surprise that they were unable to find this man – the room was filled with people from all over Spain and the surrounding countries, all of whom were speaking their native languages – nor was it a surprise that the girl slowly nodded her head, barely even listening to the Canadian whatsoever.

The blonde girl seemed to be completely frightened without her older brother around to protect her and Matthew could have never just let her go find the man herself. Not that the Gods themselves would have been able to force her to let go of his arm before she found her brother. He was the first person that she had come across that had spoken English, as she was unable to speak anything other than English and German.

Who even knew if they would be able to find her brother before the majority of the people here had left for the night?

People of all ages and genders surrounded them with their pressed suits and flounced skirts. Few people stopped for a moment to take a look at the odd looking couple making their way through the crowded house. Their loud voices speaking in a foreign tongue were the cause of a severe pain starting up in the back of the strawberry blonde's head. All of them seemed to love interfering with people's lives and the idea of these enthusiastic gatherings in a way that Matthew had not thought possible. It was as if they lived off of it instead of food and water.

Matthew looked over at his companion as a thought ran through his mind. "I never did catch your name, miss."

"Oh, I do apologize for that. It was very rude of me." She turned away from the crowd for a short moment to look at the Canadian, "My name is Erica Zwingli, and your name is?"

"I am Matthew Williams. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Zwingli, although I do wish that it were under better circumstances."

Miss Zwingli nodded slightly, before both of them silently went back to scanning through the crowds. The blonde girl kept of firm grip on Matthew's arm as they slowly moved.

At one point in time, Matthew thought that he saw a flash of golden blonde hair through the groups of people, swiftly moving in the opposite directions. He fought down the urge to chase after the person, his mind still heavily plagued with thoughts of what had taken place just earlier that morning. Matthew had not seen hair or hide of Alfred since that morning when they had been so rudely interrupted. No, his brother had made the decision to keep him thoroughly distracted the whole day.

Even then, instead of the good quality time that Mr. Bonnefoy had most likely had been looking for, all he got was an almost completely distracted Matthew. His mind had been filled with memories of that brief bit of skin to skin contact that they had shared along with his overactive imagination thinking up late night confrontations and just how those chapped lips would feel against his own. The whole day had almost been completely disastrous.

"Mr. Williams, please hurry up. I believe that I see Vash standing over there," Miss Zwingli informed the Canadian, subtly pulling him towards yet another part of the house.

Matthew quickly took the lead as he realized just where the blonde girl wanted to go to. There was a shorter man on the other side of the room with shoulder length blonde hair who was standing with his back to them. The man's shoulders looked like they were slightly tense and it was not difficult to imagine a scowl on his face – just like the one that Miss Zwingli had described to Matthew earlier.

The Canadian brought a hand up to the man's shoulder as they approached him. "Excuse me, sir, but-."

"And just what do you want? Liet is not here with me at the moment, and I do not know quite where he is either. So, if you are here to talk to him, then you will have to go look for him yourself," the man demanded, turning around to reveal a face much different than what either of them had been expecting.

This man did not have the choppy hair or the short bangs that Miss Zwingli had described to Matthew. In fact, if this man said that he was related to the rather small girl hanging onto Matthew's arm, then he would not have believed it even for a second. While they both shared the blonde hair and the green eyes, they showed no other similarities to each other. They were a living sort of proof that there was much more to a person's features than the colour of their hair and eyes.

Matthew dropped his hand from where it had been sitting on the strange man's shoulder. "I am sorry; sir, my companion and I had been looking for her older brother. It just so happens that the two of you seem to share a slight resemblance from behind."

The blonde man almost appeared as if he were pouting as he figured out just what the Canadian was trying to tell him. And then he peered at the two of them, looking as if he were trying to remember something or another. Matthew glanced over at the small blonde girl on his arm, hoping that there would be a flash of recognition on her face.

"I remember you!" the strange man suddenly announced, pointing at the strawberry blonde man.

Matthew openly gaped at the strange man in his surprise before remembering just where he was. "I do believe that you must have mistaken me for someone else, sir. To the best of my knowledge, we have never been introduced to each other. Besides, I am not exactly the most… memorable of people, so you are most likely thinking of someone else."

"That is because I did not get the opportunity to introduce myself to you this morning! My name is Feliks Łukasiewicz, in case you wanted to know it. Regardless, I had been walking around the orchards this early this morning when I saw you," the Canadian stiffened at the words. "I had been looking for Liet because he was not in our shared room this morning when I woke up, and you had been talking with that blonde with the beautiful blue eyes!"

There was a knowing glint in those green eyes of Mr. Łukasiewicz's, along with a small smile on his face.

Miss Zwingli stared on at the two of them in curiosity and confusion as her temporary companion glared at the green eyed man. What was so wrong with the man that was helping her look for her brother taking an early morning walk with a beautiful woman? Regardless of what the answer was, Matthew looked to be on the offensive side, preparing to strike with only a moment's notice.

Between the poor lighting in the house and the anger coursing through the Canadian's veins, his indigo eyes almost looked like they were violet.

"Did you inform anyone of what you witnessed earlier today?" Matthew's words were carefully measured and an obvious test.

"Liet knows," was Mr. Łukasiewicz's answer, sending bolts of terror through the strawberry blonde, "but I asked him to keep it to himself. I do not have any plans to tell anyone that I saw the two of you this morning. It is no one's business other than your own…. Oh, I did not catch your name."

"My name? An odd time to be asking for it but it is Matthew Williams… and my companion for the moment is Erica Zwingli."

"It really is nice to meet you, Mr. Łukasiewicz, although I do apologize for the way that we met. I hope that the three of us will have more of an opportunity to talk in the future, after I have found my brother," Miss Zwingli spoke up for the first time since they had approached the strange man.

"And I hope that we get that opportunity too, Miss Zwingli."

Mr. Łukasiewicz slowly started to walk away from them as if the whole encounter had never happened in the first place. Miss Zwingli started to subtly tug on Matthew's arm once again, urging him to help her search for her brother once again. Matthew was too preoccupied with the events that had just occurred to let her move him away from where her was standing. It seemed like he could either let himself get pulled away or chase after the strange man and yell and scream at him until he got the answers that he wanted.

It was terrifying to know that someone else knew about the Canadian and Alfred, especially someone who he did not know if he could trust. What he was doing with Alfred, whatever it was, was disgusting in all meanings of the words and not to mention, illegal.

"Could you wait a moment, Mr. Łukasiewicz? I want to know why you are doing this. There is no benefit in keeping such a thing to yourself, and you would probably benefit in some way if you did tell someone."

"You do not have to call me Mr. Łukasiewicz, Mr. Williams, my name is Feliks. And as for my reasons, well, let us just say that I would not benefit as much from telling anyone as you think that I would, because we are quite similar, I would like to think," was the strangely confident answer.

The strange man continued to walk away, leaving Matthew with even more question than he had had before. An odd sort of hope filled him as he thought about what Feliks was so subtly suggesting to him. There was something inside of him though that stopped him from chasing after Feliks and from confirming what he thought to be true.

This was neither the time nor the place, Matthew realized, as he let Miss Zwingli pull him off into the crowds somewhere. And so, he let his eyes wander, on the lookout for Miss Zwingli's older brother once again.

The elusive man, Vash apparently, seemed to completely disappear from the Spaniard's gathering altogether as they searched through the groups of people, hoping that he would appear. However, the only green eyed blonde that they seemed to be able to spot was Feliks, much to Miss Zwingli's disappointment. Even Arthur had seemingly disappeared, although Matthew had seen him a couple of times earlier in the day. They even spotted Francis a couple of times, but Matthew made sure that they steered clear from the man and the pretty blonde woman that he was flirting with.

"Are you having relations with a woman other than your intended? Is that what you and Mr. Łukasiewicz were talking about earlier?" Miss Zwingli spoke up after a little while.

Matthew sputtered as thoughts of Irunya filled his mind – the amazing woman who both needed and wanted someone who was not him. "N-no, I do not believe that is the case at all."

"You are Irunya's intended and the same man that Feliks saw in the orchard early this morning, talking with another? And here, I was under the impression that you would never hurt her, no matter what happened. At least, that is what Ivan told me."

* * *

"_You're up here already, Al?"_

_The blue eyed blonde looked over at the strawberry blonde young man climbing into the attic with the leather bound journal in one hand. Mattie looked a lot better today than he had the morning before, and the bags underneath his eyes were almost completely gone. The Canadian easily smiled over at the American, his current mood most definitely matching the autumn sun shining through the few clouds left in the sky. Something good was going to happen today, he could feel it._

"_I've been up here for almost an hour now, dude! You should really come and see this set of wooden soldiers that I found in here though. It looks almost exactly like the set that Artie got for me when I was a little kid, years and years ago!" Al responded, with his usual amount of enthusiasm._

_Immediately, Al went searching in one of the cardboard boxes for the set of wooden soldiers that he had found not too long ago. Finally, he pulled them out of a box on his right, just as Mattie came to sit down beside him._

_The soldiers were definitely really old with most of the paint already worn off of them. It was easy to tell that someone had put a lot of time and effort into making each and every soldier, as they were all made by hand. Al was holding one of them out to the Canadian, with a care that Mattie had hardly ever seen him use before even though they had known each other since they were little._

_Thoughts flew through Mattie's head as he grabbed a hold of the wooden soldier. They were memories of things that he had never done at any point in his life. A platinum blonde was laughing at one thing or another. His Papa was arguing with what appeared to be Arthur, and as usual, both of them were clearly enjoying it. A small wooden home in a town that he had never seen before. Al, dressed in clothes that he had sworn he would never touch unless he had to, pouting as Mattie held a wooden soldier in his hand. _

_And then all of them faded away, at least all of them except for the very last one, replaced with memories of their future counterparts._

"_What… what did you see?" Al's words were cautious, almost as if he was afraid to say them._

"_A bunch of different things, actually. Or at least I think so, it's all a bit blurry except for the last thing that I saw. It was the two of us standing in a room with these soldiers that you found. They were almost brand new though and I think I was… making fun of you for playing with toys at your age or something like that."_

_The American silently put his hand on top of Mattie's so that they were both holding the wooden soldier. Mattie looked up at Al in shock, vaguely hoping that he would find something other than silent support. He immediately cursed himself for thinking like that. Al's head was turned away from him though, the blue eyed blonde hiding his emotions from his Canadian counterpart. _

_Al's bottom lip was being chewed to death as the American hoped that Mattie would take it the way he intended._

_They were so close together and yet so far apart._

"_You should spend the night here tonight. We can… look through this shit for longer and then go to the university together in the morning. We can even get up really early because I know that you hate getting to your classes late."_

"_We don't have to get up that early. You're cranky all day if you don't get the chance to sleep until at least 8."_

* * *

"I do not know what you are talking about, sir, or even who you are for that matter. And I… I would never hurt Irunya, not if I could help it," Matthew defended himself, his voice even quieter than normal.

The man standing in front of Matthew and his temporary companion merely lifted a single thin, brown eyebrow. He looked small and frail, and his brown hair easily fell to his shoulders in soft waves. There was strength in those green eyes though, a strength that told tales of how strong he could be if the situation called for it. He was someone that people did not really want to cross, in the way that one did not want to truly anger Ivan.

Matthew forced his back to straighten, noting the fear of the girl on his arm somewhere in the back of his head. He would have to be strong in the face of this unknown man – he had done nothing wrong, despite what this man thought.

"You do not have any right to question my actions when I do not even know your name, sir." Matthew forced his voice to come out louder, accidentally surprising Miss Zwingli.

"I do not have the right? I have known Irunya, Natalia, and Ivan since the day that I was born, regardless of you supposed bond with Irunya and Ivan. And I am – I am Toris Laurinaitis, just as you are Matthew Williams – Irunya's intended, are you not? She has said nothing but good things about you over the past year and a half."

"No, we are in a courtship but I have not proposed to her. Although, I get the impression that you do not understand the full details of our courtship. There is more to it than you seem to believe there is. You do not know everything that is going on with them even though you have undoubtedly known them for longer," Matthew tried to explain.

"Irunya is in love with you, there is no doubt about that. There should be nothing that makes it more complicated than that, no matter what your opinion on the matter is!"

Matthew did not respond to the statement, only seeing the brutal honesty on Mr. Laurinaitis's face. The brunet truly believed that Irunya thought of the Canadian as more than just a good friend. Not to mention that the man was grasping at straws that did not exist, they were an optical illusion at the very best.

Miss Zwingli gripped tightly onto Matthew's arm, trying desperately to pull him away from the apparent argument.

People were staring at them, not accustomed to such a loud, honest commotion. A commotion that was not staged, drunken, or spoken in hushed whispers.

"No, that is wrong. Irunya is in love with another, just as I love another. She is not able to truly be with that person, no matter what she does, just as I am unable to truly be with the one that I love. And so, I am satisfying her parents' wants or they would force her into a loveless marriage where she would be completely miserable. I do apologize, but if you want any more details than you should ask her yourself," Matthew finally explained, with a confidence that he did not actually feel at that very moment.

Mr. Laurinaitis almost looked like he was in shock as he carefully comprehended Matthew's words.

The people that had been subtly watching their affairs despite any language barriers, turned away, sensing that the major crisis for the evening had been carefully avoided with a few words that made no sense to those that weren't involved. Few strained their ears to try and continue listening, their attention having completely waned.

Miss Zwingli relaxed her tight grip on Matthew's arm, her eyes slowly straying to the rest of the people in this particular room. Hopefully it would not be much longer until she found her older brother; it was odd without him around to protect her.

Only Matthew was patiently waiting for Mr. Laurinaitis to completely compose himself.

"I do apologize for my actions this evening. It – it really isn't typical for me to act like this, believe it or not. It was rather rude to assume that I knew the entire situation when I have not been able to reach Irunya or Ivan for months now. All three of them have slowly been isolated from the rest of us," the brunet explained, sheepishly.

"And I assure you that it is completely fine. Emotions get the best of everyone at one point or another. It does surprise me that you have gone so long without talking to her or Ivan though. Um, I could send her a message for you when my brother and I get back to his estate, later on in the week, if you wish," Matthew quietly offered.

"Please just inform her that Raivis, Eduard, and I miss her dearly, and that we really do hope that she is well. And… thank you for offering to do this for me, despite the way that I acted."

It was much easier to see the type of man that Mr. Laurinaitis was when he was not upset over a small misunderstanding of sorts. There was a small smile on his face and he was absentmindedly playing with his fingers, showing just how nervous he was. There was no more hostility in his eyes or in his stance, Matthew's carefully chosen words having erased the majority of his anger. It was obvious that there was something else that he was not comfortable about though but he could not quite figure out what it was.

"Erica, what are you doing, associating with this mismatched group of riffraff? I thought that I told you to stay be the entrance where I would be able to find you with ease," a new voice demanded.

"I apologize, Brother. A man who did not speak either English or German had been bothering me, so I asked Mr. Williams to assist me in finding you. It does appear that it ended up being the other way around though."

"Hmm, I suppose that I have to thank you for helping my sister, Mr. Williams. I will talk to you at a later date," the man commented.

Miss Zwingli quickly grabbed onto her brother's arm, giving the two men a quick but cheerful smile as they walked away. There was a new skip in her step as she walked with her brother, but Matthew could not help but think that Mr. Zwingli was the strangest man that he had met all evening. Not that they had really even met, as both him and Mr. Laurinaitis were standing there, trying to figure out what had just happened.

"Well, I suppose this is where I take my leave too, Mr. Williams. I am afraid that I have to go and make sure that Feliks has not gone and got himself into any more trouble this evening. I hope to talk to you again soon," Mr. Laurinaitis finally said.

Matthew nodded, and the brunet went off to find the strange green eyed man that he had met earlier.

Baby blue eyes carefully watched him as he made his way back across the room.

* * *

_Al looked up from the wooden toy soldiers that he had been carefully examining. The sun had disappeared back behind a bunch of grey clouds that had appeared once again, just waiting for it to rain once again. And then there was Mattie, who was sitting on the chair with the leather bound journal lying open in his lap. The Canadian's pale eyelids were closed and had been that way for a while now. His breathing had evened out just over half an hour ago, leaving Al pretty much alone in the dirty attic. At one point in time, he might have just woken his best friend up but now… things were changing._

_The blue eyed blonde turned his attention back to the toy soldier in his hands. _

_Artie hadn't been at home all day, instead choosing to go out and do some "grocery shopping". The American scoffed, remembering the poor excuse that his older brother had come up with on the spot. What type of person went grocery shopping for close to 6 hours? Especially when said person hated shopping of any sort in the first place. Not that Al or Mattie truly cared where the Brit was spending his time. It was just that they were unable to ask him anything about the "old magic" that they had remembered about the night before._

"_Mm… Alfie… please," the moan slipped from Mattie's pale lips._

_The blue eyed blonde turned bright red at the familiar nickname. How many times had it escaped from Mattie's lips when they were younger? It was the affectionate nickname that Mattie had always preferred until they had got into high school which at that point, Al had asked him to stop using it because it was too girly. Curiosity filled him to the brim, he looked back over at the Canadian, immediately spotting those flushed cheeks. The journal hid anything else that might have given him proof that Mattie was having some sort of sex dream._

_And for some reason, the simple fact that he couldn't tell was disappointing him._

"_Al… Alfie… ri… right there."_

_Suddenly, Mattie shifted so that he was lying on his side, facing Al. The journal fell to the ground with a dull thunk but Al wasn't paying any attention to that. His eyes were searching Mattie's body, all the way down to his crotch. An obvious bump was there, indication his arousal. Heat pooled in the American's groin as that embarrassing nickname was moaned once again by his best friend. _

_With a start, he finally realized something very important. Mattie wasn't just having any ordinary sex dream._

_Mattie was having a sex dream about him._


	6. Oblivious Confrontations

Ah, another wonderful day! I don't quite know what to say about this chapter, except that it makes me speechless. Absolutely speechless. I couldn't comment about it even if I absolutely had to. Except maybe that it's ridiculously long.

On another note, thanks to all 10 people who reviewed the last chapter. I couldn't believe it, that's the most reviews that I've ever got on anything. Ever. Which would explain why I'm so happy. (Although all of a sudden it seems like I am incapable of doing a whole bunch of things. Oh well.) Just a heads up, there is "mature content" in this chapter, which has also led to me putting up the rating. Also realized that this is now my first M rated story.

Anywho, read, enjoy, and then review!

I don't own.

* * *

**Tear Me Apart  
**_Chapter Six: Oblivious Confrontations_

* * *

Matthew easily moved through the groups of people, politely smiling and excusing himself whenever he accidentally interrupted somebody's conversation or was forced to go straight through a small group of people. The whole house suddenly seemed suffocating, as if it were possible to choke on the heated whispers in foreign languages and the curious looks by themselves. There had to be an exit around somewhere though; a place where he could escape and clear his mind for a little while.

And finally he spotted it – a small abandoned balcony not too far away that he immediately made his way over to.

The air was cool and crisp, blunt but oddly comforting in a way too. Small, bright stars were visible against the dark blue sky and the visible half of the moon was high in the sky looking particularly bright on this specific cool, autumn night. The balcony overlooked the orchard, where not even star crossed lovers had ventured tonight as they preferred to stay inside where the cold would not dare bother them. This balcony was a small place of sanctuary to Matthew – away from the people and the noise and the best place to see the groups of Mr. Carriedo's estate.

Nothing could have prepared the Canadian for the next assault though.

There were limbs everywhere and before he even had the chance to figure out what was going on, his head hit the stone walls of the outside of the house. A hand was slapped over his mouth before he had the chance to scream. As his vision cleared, the strawberry blonde could see those baby blue eyes glaring at him and the scowl that was present on his attacker's face.

"Why the bloody Hell have I not heard about your courtship with some whore? And the person that you supposedly love is that girl that was parading around on your arm like a prostitute, is she not? Did you expect to play for some sort of fool?" Matthew's attacker growled, anger blazing in his eyes.

Indigo eyes narrowed and Matthew wanted nothing more than to be able to explain himself properly, but the hand sealed over his mouth did not budge even a bit.

"Do you not have any idea what it is that you do to me? That whatever this dirty, disgusting thing between us is, it makes me want to do more than just touch you, Matthew. It makes me want to monopolize you and even hide you away in some place where I will be the only one to ever gaze upon you," Alfred continued with passion in his voice.

The pale Canadian physically forced his body to relax, to completely accept the other warm body pressed flush against his own body, and to show that he understood what Alfred was telling him. Even one of his hands ventured up to rest on the arm pinning him to the wall. Eventually the blue eyed blonde seemed to understand, letting his guard down and slowly removing his hand from Matthew's mouth.

Indigo eyes saw the jealousy rushing through baby blue eyes, not to mention the fear that went along with it. The fear of being the only one who felt the way that he did and the fear that he would be left behind.

"Did you not listen to every word that I said to Mr. Laurinaitis? Irunya and I merely have what is called a courtship of convenience, and I only feel for her as a brother would. As for Miss Zwingli, well she requested that I help her find her older brother. We had never even met before then," the strawberry blonde quietly admitted to his counterpart.

Alfred narrowed his eyes, obviously not trusting a single word that was making its way out of Matthew's mouth.

And why should he do such a thing? They had really only talked to each other a handful of times, despite this strange bond between them, the attraction, and the lust. The American had absolutely no way of knowing that every word that the quiet man had told him was the truth. And if the situation had been reversed, Matthew did not know if he would have believed anything that Alfred told him.

Still, Matthew continued with the hope that his words would break through, "Please listen to me, Alfred. Never before has another made me feel the way that you manage to make me feel and that includes both Irunya and Miss Zwingli. I hated every moment that she was on my arm this evening, and while she was searching for her brother, I was searching for you."

"Prove it to me. Please, I beg of you, give me a reason, any reason, to believe you."

Slowly but deliberately, Matthew moved one of those beautiful, strong tanned hands to his chest, past the top layer of his clothing. It was there that Alfred would be able to feel his racing heart the same way that he could hear it in his ears, could feel it fluttering away even in the tips of his fingers.

It was a blind hope that the American would be able to figure out the reasons why, that he would realize that the accelerated beat of Matthew's heart was not just from the crowds of people standing just a few feet away from them. That he was not just worried that someone would step out onto the balcony and realize that they were standing there, just out of sight and so, _so_ close together. No one else had ever been able to make his heart beat this fast.

"I cannot do that because the only way that you will ever believe me is if you trust me completely. I could tell you that my lips have never touched another's or that I believe I am falling in love with you faster than I ever thought possible. And for both of those things, I would be telling the truth but I cannot force you to believe what I am telling you."

"I wish that I was able to; trust you, I mean. And I wish that one day, I will be able to trust you and love you with my entire being."

"And I wish that one day I will be able to do the same with you."

They stayed like that for a little while longer while the people on the other side of the wall were completely oblivious to the twisted limbs and the small, hidden smiles that were being exchanged. Not a single person would have been able to deny the passion in the embrace or the feelings that seemed to surround them, no matter how much they wanted to.

In fact, the pair seemed to be just as oblivious to those around them as they were of them. It was understandable as they were building the first parts of that trust, that bridge – a bridge that unknowingly stood alongside many other bridges both torn and broken, and strong and unwavering.

"Matthew, earlier when you said that you think you are falling in love with me, did you truly mean it? Or was it just something that you said in the heat of the moment?" Alfred finally asked.

The Canadian turned his head to the side, helplessly trying to hide the delicate blush that was forming on his cheeks. Those words had been spoken so openly and honestly, as if his heart had not consulted with his mind before he opened his mouth and spoke.

Not to mention that those baby blue eyes were staring at him so intently, as if his answer were the answer to life.

"I am unable to say that I am completely in love with you, not honestly, not yet. But I could be soon, without even the slightest effort on your part. Because just as I do not really know what I do to you, you have no clue what you do to me."

Baby blue eyes darkened as the words affected Alfred in a way that neither of them had truly considered. The lust almost overcame both of them as it immediately mirrored itself in Matthew. Adrenaline rushed through both of them at the sudden friction as Alfred adjusted his hips ever so slightly and at the fear of being caught in such a compromising situation. The only thing that any one person had to do was walk out onto the balcony, seeking some fresh air and both of their lives would never be the same again.

"Tell me then. Explain it to me so that I will never be able to forget what I do to you. So that I can make you fall in love with me as soon as humanly possible," the blue eyed blonde breathed out.

Matthew's battered bottom lip found its way between a pair of pearly white teeth and he could feel the heavy weight of his pocket watch giving him courage.

"Your smile!" A blonde eyebrow was raised. "I do not mean to sound cliché but it is much like the sun, filling me with warmth. Even if I could see it every day of my now damned life, it would not nearly be enough. Your eyes are the most perfect shade of blue that somehow washes away all of my fears whenever I see it, without you even trying. Your words fill me with confidence and so many other things that I have not felt before. Half of the time, I just want to ravish you, even when you are not physically with me. I wish to bed you but even more, I wish for you to bed me so that I will be able to feel you deep inside of me days, even weeks later."

That last confession sent both of them reeling – Matthew, in embarrassment, and Alfred, in shock. As soon as the American had recovered, an arm was wrapped around the extremely embarrassed man, pulling him in even close than before. Alfred wished that he were able to jump for joy and scream to the world that Matthew Williams was his and his alone.

"If the only thing that was between us was lust, then I would be taking you up into my rooms this very moment so that I could have my way with you," Alfred admitted, his lips resting against a pale ear.

"And because the lust is only a small part of this, you will not. So what will you do if you will not grant me the privilege of sharing your bed tonight? Surely, this is not from your disgust of me."

Matthew shifted his hips ever so slightly, enjoying the almost silent sound that escaped from the American's mouth.

This time it was Alfred's turn to turn his head in embarrassment. "I want my first time not just with you, but in general, to be after we are the intimate we can be, emotionally. If you had not been a man, I would have said on our wedding night, but now we can only pretend that such a thing will ever happen."

The smile that Matthew gave the blue eyed blonde was almost blinding. That explanation had cleared up any anger that Matthew might have held for Alfred for refusing both of them. No, this man, this deafeningly sweet man, wanted them to be together in every single meaning of the word before they consummated their bond. The indigo eyed man had never thought that he would feel such joy from being refused, but he did, and especially so for a matter such as this.

"Will you join me in my room tonight then? Not so that you may bed me but so that we may spend as many hours as we can together before we must depart in the morning?" the Canadian requested.

"Of course, as if I could refuse such a request. Especially when it is coming from you."

* * *

"_Oh… do t-that… ugh, Alfie… that… again," Mattie moaned, one hand moving to the waistband of his pants._

_Al moved towards the sleeping figure on the chair, his whole body gravitating towards Mattie's. Heat continued to grow in the depths of his stomach as he watched that pale hand move past the waistband and most likely past a pair of the white boxer briefs that Mattie always seemed to prefer. That damned nickname continued to fall from those light pink lips, every word bringing Al a second closer to jumping the completely defenseless young man. It wasn't until Mattie grabbed a hold of himself that the American finally lost control though._

_Not that anyone could truly blame him._

_It had been far too much for him to listen to his best friend moan his name and jerk himself off. Especially when he had literally just started to notice the Canadian in a way that he never had before. _

_Were they really like the Matthew and Alfred from the journal? Al doubted that he would be able to show the same restraint as his supposed counterpart from the past had but then again, they lived in a different time and place. A place, he realized with a shock, where they could love each other openly without fear if that was what they truly wanted. Or rather what Mattie wanted. Because Al was becoming more and more certain that this was what he wanted._

_Slowly, the Canadian was pushed back onto his back, his legs immediately spreading as Al watched him. The blue eyed blonde only hesitated for a moment to take in the exotic sight right in front of him, before climbing up onto Mattie's lap. _

_It wasn't his favourite position but he would take what he got in this case. _

_They were both panting by now, Mattie's name occasionally escaping from Al's lips. A tanned hand cautiously wandered down a clothed, lean chest, his eyes following as he reached strawberry blonde curls peeking out over the edge of the waistband._

_His eyes flew back up to that handsome, yet feminine face, focusing on the way that Mattie shuddered at the addition of a second hand._

"_Al… Alfie!" Mattie called again._

"_Mattie," was Al's whispered response, as if he were genuinely afraid to wake the other up._

_Against any hope that Al might have had, pale eyelids fluttered open as breathy moans escaped from Mattie's mouth. Indigo irises were revealed and the flush on those normally pale cheeks darkened in embarrassment. A pale hand fell away from beneath Al's; leaving the American to do all of the work._

_Al could feel himself growing harder as Mattie looked him over ever so slowly before their eyes met one another. Nothing mattered to him except for the obvious look of complete pleasure on his friend's face._

"_Al – oh god, go faster! – why are… are you doing this?" Mattie asked between heavy pants._

_The blue eyed blonde leaned closer as he complied with the strawberry blonde's desperate demands. "How… how could I not do th-this? You were just sleeping right here, looking so ab-abso-absolutely adorable when you started, ah, moaning my name. And… and then you started touching yourself. I couldn't resist… no-not even for a moment."_

_A loud gasp escaped from the American's mouth as he felt a hand slip past the waistband of his own pants and grab a hold of the hard, burning organ. Moans easily slipped out of his own mouth as the pale hand started to stroke him and any thoughts of how Mattie had managed to do that with him noticing completely escaped from his mind. Indigo met baby blue for the second time and they fell into an easy rhythm, as that white, sticky substance started to coat Al's hand, spreading itself down Mattie's shaft._

_Sensing that Mattie was painfully close to completion, he pulled his hand away, leaving Mattie moaning for more._

_Al paused for a brief moment, soaking in the beautiful sight in front of him that would most likely fuel his dreams for years to come. Mattie was panting and moaning for more of his touch with drool coming out of the corner of his mouth and it quickly watered. The Canadian's face was completely flushed from the tips of his ears down to his neck, disappearing down past his shirt. A pair of round, wire rimmed glasses was sitting on the edge of his nose, on the verge of falling off of his face. _

_Al reached up and quickly grabbed a hold of the glasses before stowing them away on a nearby box._

_Now he had the perfect view of Mattie's erotic face._

_The embarrassed and oh-so-aroused Canadian looked at Al in confusion as his hand was pulled away from the front of the blue eyed blonde's pants. Did Al suddenly decide that he didn't want this after all? Despite the fact that he had been the one to initiate things in the first place? He didn't want to believe it – he couldn't believe it._

_Instead of pulling away though, Al pulled their hips as close together as possible. They both let out a deep, loud moan as their members touched – their pants had somehow found their way to their knees without either of them realizing when. Al intentionally ground their hips together, his head immediately falling to Mattie's shoulder. The Canadian's hips thrust towards him, causing more of that delicious tension and they both let out another moan. _

_Soon, they were matching each other thrust for thrust, each time a bit more desperate than the last. They were so close, so painfully close._

"_Al-Alfie!"_

* * *

"Mon petit frère, I demand to know where you are going with that dirty American!"

Matthew quickly grabbed a hold of Alfred's wrist, hoping that they would lose the Parisian in the crowds of people before anyone realized that it was him that Mr. Bonnefoy was making so much fuss about.

Mr. Bonnefoy's face was obviously flushed from a few too many glasses of wine that night, even for him and there was the same small looking blonde woman on his arm that Matthew had noticed earlier that evening. She was most definitely scowling at his brother, not hiding behind some fake smile like most women did. Still, Matthew was cursing Mr. Bonnefoy's extremely bad timing.

Apparently though, the fates were working against him completely as Alfred refused to be moved and called out, "I am not dirty, Mr. Bonnefoy, no matter what your opinion of me really is."

The Frenchman caught sight of them almost immediately, Alfred's presence most likely being the only reason that he had noticed them at all. The blonde woman was dragged after Mr. Bonnefoy as he decided that the best thing for him to do at that moment was chase after his younger brother. Matthew stayed right where he was, slowly letting go of Alfred's wrist. There was no point in trying to run now – it would only make things worse at this point in time.

"N-now I demand to know what exactly you are doing with mon petit frère! He is a pure, innocent soul and I will not have him conforming to your dirty American ways! Mathieu needs love in his life, the kind that someone such as you will never be able to give him!" the Parisian stopped for a moment, hiccupped and looked around in confusion before his eyes fell back onto Alfred. "Yes, you! Leave mon Mathieu alone from now on! I refuse to let him be corrupted by your evil American ways."

The whole room practically fell into silence for the second time that evening. Nearby onlookers watched and those that were farther away intently listened, not wanting to miss anything more than absolutely necessary. The drunken ramblings of Mr. Bonnefoy were a rare occurrence, after all.

Alfred merely looked to be confused, most likely contemplating the way that he was supposedly corrupting the "pure, innocent" Canadian.

Mr. Bonnefoy, on the other hand, looked quite proud of himself for protecting his precious Mathieu from the evil, dirty American that was after him.

"Francis, how about I show you just how 'pure and innocent' I really am when we get back to the estate in the next couple of days. I am absolutely certain that you will be surprised with what you discover. Besides, Alfred and I were just heading up to his rooms to talk. He had no intent on 'corrupting' me or any of the other ridiculous things that are going through your mind right about now," Matthew ground out, glaring at his older brother.

"B-but, Mathieu, you are pure and innocent! It is obvious in the way that you blush whenever I try to get you to talk about that big breasted woman you are courting or anything else that has to do with l'amour. And this is why I refuse to let this dirty American… dirty you, mon petit lapin!"

"I will say this again, Mr. Bonnefoy. I am not dirty; I had a bath just this morning!"

"I must admit, Francis, if this boy is as pure and innocent as you say he is, than he must be nothing short of a Saint! Especially when he has someone such as you as an older brother, just waiting to make him into a pervert at any time," the blonde woman added in, her voice a bit deeper than expected.

Matthew stared at the woman for a brief moment. Her hair was a shade of sandy blonde and was done up in an elaborate up do that was popular amongst woman her age. A pair of glasses sat on the edge of her nose, looking rather out of place and her eyes were a sparling shade of green. She had a smaller frame but now that she was closer, it was easier to tell that she was a bit taller than most women were. There was something tugging at the back of his mind though, an insistence that he knew her from somewhere.

"Well, fortunately Matthew is not nearly as pure and innocent as Mr. Bonnefoy would like to believe, so he really does not have to worry about me and my dirtiness corrupting him. Will you please excuse us now, Miss…?" Alfred commented.

"Alice, this is Alice," Mr. Bonnefoy explained with a slight huff.

Alfred looked at Miss Alice in confusion until Matthew quickly grabbed a hold of his wrist. "Well, I really do apologize, Miss Alice, but Alfred and I must get going now. I will see you in the morning, Francis."

The American let Matthew pull him through the crowd, the couple watching them intently. The strawberry blonde could almost perfectly picture the scowl on his older brother's face as he was unable to do anything else without causing an unnecessary scene. Gradually the people went back to their own business as they realized that Mr. Bonnefoy was not quite as drunk as they had thought he was, or at the very least, he was handling it a lot better than most people did. Instead, they moved to let the two men through the crowd, overly aware of their presence.

"Matthew, that was Artie. Artie was standing there on Mr. Bonnefoy's arm and… and he was wearing a dress," Alfred traumatically commented as they reached Matthew's room.

"What exactly are you talking about? That was not Mr. Kirkland, your cousin, that was Miss Alice, some floozy that my brother somehow managed to seduce," Matthew reiterated.

The blue eyed blonde just shook his head. He didn't want to believe it either.

* * *

_It was slightly chilly outside with a cool autumn breeze blowing through the university campus. The leaves on the trees were starting to turn red, yellow, or orange. The sun was out, at least for the moment, with only a few grey clouds in the sky. Even the grass was a bright green colour from a whole summer of wasting tax money on watering the university grounds. It was the perfect picture for the students who were taking the photography class._

"_Kiku, man, you really have to help me here! You're the only one that I can talk to about something like this," Al begged the small Japanese man standing beside him._

"_Alfred-san, you know that I cannot help you if you do not tell me what the problem is in the first place," was the calm, completely rational answer._

_Honda Kiku easily took another picture with his camera, pausing only for a moment to give himself praise as he noticed the perfect shot of the reddish green leaf falling off of the maple tree. He frowned for a moment – the maple trees weren't supposed to start losing their leaves for another couple of weeks. The Japanese man glanced back over at Alfred, who was most definitely not focused on their assignment for the day. Their assignment wouldn't be making him blush like that. Discreetly, he took a picture of those reddening cheeks, filing it away to show Elizaveta later on._

"_Well you see, over the long weekend, Mattie and I were looking at some stuff up in the attic of my house and he kinda fell asleep while reading this journal that we found. He looked extremely adorable and all that shit, which was absolutely fine because Mattie always looks kinda adorable, expect when he's playing hockey. Then he just looks downright hot. Anyways, he started moaning my name or rather this-kinda-embarrassing-name that he used to call me back when we were little and then I may have just kinda jumped him. I… um…. gave-him-a-hand-job-and-he-returned-the-favour. Then he ran away – like hardcore pushed me off of him and ran away from me. And now he won't answer my call or my texts and he had already left his house this morning when I came to pick him up like I always do!" Al ranted, barely sparing a moment to take a breath._

_Kiku stared at the blue eyed blonde, both of their cheeks slightly flushed. This was not something that normally happened between them as they both believed that their sex lives were only between themselves and their partner – or at least, Al thought so. The brunet processed it for a couple of moments – this was definitely going back to Elizaveta._

"_And how do you feel about Matthew-san? Surely something more than friendship and um, sexual attraction if you are so upset," Kiku asked the depressed looking blonde._

_The American frowned. "Well, Mattie's my best friend – no offense, Kiku, you're my 2__nd__ best friend. But I don't really know. I know that I get really upset when he hangs out with the commie or the Dutch freak, kinda like how Heracles gets really mad whenever you hang out with Sadiq. And I get that it was super uncool for a hero to jump a defenseless person like that but I don't really regret it at all. Not to mention that he always makes me ridiculously happy somehow."_

"_And did you tell Matthew-san that you felt this way? You have mentioned in the past that he is insecure at times."_

_Al froze while the words quickly ran through his mind. Mattie really was insecure at the worst of time, always doubting the little things such as people remembering when his birthday was or even that people cared about him period. It was something that was completely normal for the Canadian._

"_Fuck! Tell the teacher that I have to go do something really, really important, dude!"_

_Kiku smiled. He would have to tell Elizaveta to look at the footage from Matthew-san's classroom and Alfred-san's attic later on today._


	7. Whispered, Confident Promises

Here's Chapter 7! I do hope that you enjoy, although I am rather confused about the numbers of reviews I've been getting. 2 reviews, than 7 reviews, than 10 review, and now back down to 3 reviews. I'm fine with reviews telling me why they didn't like a certain chapter too, you know!

On another note, thanks to those people that did review, and to the people that alerted and favourited. I'm glad that you liked it :)

Don't have much else to say, so I'll stop my rambling now.

Don't own APH.

* * *

**Tear Me Apart  
**_Chapter Seven: Whispered, Confident Promises_

* * *

Broken grey clouds filled the sky while the bright sun peaked out along the edges. The rain had not started coming down yet and Matthew hoped that it would hold off for a little while longer at the very least.

The bored man was sitting on his luggage, a little ways away from the large house the Mr. Carriedo owned. He had promised to meet with Mr. Bonnefoy here, regardless of the hangover that the older man would almost definitely be sporting. That had been at least two hours ago. They were supposed to be leaving almost immediately because of some meeting that his brother had to attend when he returned to his house in a couple of days from now. And that was why it did not make any sense as to why the charismatic man had not yet shown up.

There were other things to worry about though. Things that were just as important as Matthew's older brother's typical disappearance.

That rather worrisome thing was a certain tanned, blonde American with the most beautiful eyes that the easily embarrassed man had ever seen. This man's image was pressed into the back of Matthew's eyelids and there was a very little chance that it would disappear any time in the near future. They had talked for the majority of the night up in the Canadian's room about anything and everything that came to mind. Eventually the need to sleep had won out over their preference to learn more about each other, much to their disappointment.

Still, Matthew was able to faintly feel the warmness radiating off of his back. That was the result of Alfred sleeping only a couple of inches away from him, just barely touching in some places.

However, when he had awoken in the morning, the blue eyed blonde had been gone. It had almost killed Matthew despite him knowing that it was for the best. Not to mention the kind, reassuring smile that Alfred had later given him when they passed in the hallway.

"Hey, what are you still doing here, wino bastard number two?" a shout broke through his thoughts.

A familiar Italian (who, as usual, appeared to be irritated) was standing just outside of the large house and he was not alone. An even more familiar American, sporting a rather large grin, and a perpetually scowling Briton were standing alongside him with their luggage beside them. Matthew was certain that his cheeks were turning a rather embarrassing shade of red as Alfred obviously looked straight at him.

"Do not just stand there and stare at me like some creepy bastard! Come over here and answer my question," Lovino demanded.

Matthew quickly stood up and headed toward the small group of three with his luggage in one hand. "I am waiting for Francis. He was supposed to meet me here a little while ago. You would not have happened to see him, would you? I do not want to stand out here much longer, if it is not necessary."

Alfred, Lovino, and Mr. Kirkland all had identical looks of shock on their faces as they stared at the now confused man. The Canadian was overcome by the feeling that he had missed something very important. All things considered, he most likely was missing something and that something most likely had something to do with Mr. Bonnefoy. For some reason, it was always the charismatic Parisian.

"What the hell are you talking about? That wino bastard ran for the hills before breakfast was even brought out this morning. The tomato bastard was absolutely devastated when he found out that his dear old friend would not even stay and eat the morning meal with him," Lovino hastily explained.

The grumpy Englishman sent the servant a nasty glare. "Your language is most definitely no suitable for someone in your position, Mr. Vargas."

"Artie, I think that there are more important things right not than Mr. Vargas's language. Such as Matthew being stranded here until his brother actually remembers that he even has a younger brother, which could take days," Alfred butted in.

Mr. Kirkland looked over at his cousin, vaguely impressed with Alfred for properly handling the situation when he was not. It usually took all of the blue eyed blonde's concentration to focus properly on the things going on around him and respond to them properly. The forgotten man standing beside him was even smiling gratefully at Alfred. The emerald eyed man had never thought that he would see a change of events quite like this one in all of the years of his life. For the most part, all of Alfred's relationships with other people were focussed on him, instead of the other way around.

"I really am glad that you are concerned about me, Alfred, but I am certain that I will be fine. Francis is not as bad as you make him out to be. I am positive that he will be here within the hour to pick me up," Matthew explained, quietly.

Francis had always returned for him before, even if it had taken a little while for him to remember.

Alfred did not quite agree through. "I do not believe that for even a second. I am well aware that you do not want to inconvenience any of us but what about the times that you told me about? When he forgot you for days at a time right after he forced you to move in with him just because he was too wrapped up in his own life to notice that you even existed? There is no way to prove that he will not do it again."

Mr. Kirkland sighed exasperatedly as he thought about the whole insane situation. "I hate to say this but Alfred may be right this time around. I am unable to leave you here by yourself in all good will, especially when it is my fault that your brother left early in the first place."

All pairs of eyes turned towards the ashamed sandy blonde man, or at least all of them except for one. Lovino was muttering to himself about 'stupid blondes' and some sort of bastard. If he had looked like he did not want to be there a few moments ago, then it was ten times worse now that the morning drama had been introduced. He did not enjoy this type of thing and that was why he worked for Mr. Carriedo of all people. The only thing that the Spaniard ever worried about was what type of tomatoes to grow.

"I have had enough of this. Mr. Williams, you are welcome to spend the day here, waiting for your brother if you so please but you must find your own accommodations for the night. Mr. Carriedo thanks all of your for responding to his invitation and for making the night an enjoyable one," Lovino said, strangely professional for once.

And then the Italian headed back inside, as if he had never been there in the first place.

"If you do not mind me asking, why is it your fault that Francis left early this morning?" the Canadian asked.

"Yes, Artie, what exactly did you do to Mr. Bonnefoy? It must have been something bad if you actually drove him away from the house early this morning," Alfred echoed, a smirk on his face.

The Brit flushed an odd shade of red at the repeated question. "It was nothing that important. The two of us got into a horrid argument this morning about who knows what, as we usually do, and he stormed off saying that he did not want to be near me for another second longer than necessary. I had assumed that you had gone with him."

Both Alfred and Matthew stared at the green eyed man until he started glaring at them, daring them to question his response. It was easy to tell that there was something more to the situation; that Mr. Kirkland had lied about something or had left something out. It was in his sudden defensiveness and the way that he was idly biting his lip, probably not even realizing that he was doing it.

A cocky smirk started to grow on the American's face. "Well, if you are the one that is responsible for Mr. Bonnefoy leaving Matthew here all alone, should you not be doing something about it? Something such as offering Matthew accommodation at your house until someone is able to collect him? And then, at that point in time, you can apologize to Mr. Bonnefoy for whatever it was that you said. In the event that he is not on his hands and knees thanking you for taking care of Matthew, that is."

"Well, yes, I suppose that does make sense, although I do think I mentioned how much I loathe agreeing with you and I do not think that man would be on his hands and knees for anything. Mr. Williams, would you like to some with us to my estate?"

Matthew glanced over at Alfred, easily meeting those baby blue eyes. Confidence ran through every part of the tanned man's body, and it was easy to see. It spoke to the Canadian in ways that nothing else ever had before. Both of them knew that there was no going back if he accepted this proposal, even if the person offering had no idea what the consequences of this question would be. The younger two were both well aware of the consequences. They knew what those darkened eyes could do to the other, and the consequences if someone else figured it out.

"Alright, I will go with you to your estate. That option sounds infinitively better than staying here and hoping that he shows up within the day."

* * *

_Al ran through the halls of the university, his camera bouncing up and down against his chest. He was breathing a bit faster than he normally did – a by-product of his emotions and from eating too many burgers in the past few weeks. There was a large grin on his face as he thought about what he was just about to do._

_He ran right past an open classroom with Mr. Wang confidently lecturing in front of his class – only to turn right back around as he remembered that the class Mr. Wang was lecturing was Mattie's. And so, like the hero that the blue eyed blonde most definitely was, he burst into the room with no regard for anyone other than himself. Baby blue eyes scanned the suddenly silent room quickly and not so efficiently. Al missed Mattie the first time through, only to spot him trying to hide in his seat as he looked over the class a second time._

"_Mr. Jones, what are you doing in here? I don't have you in my class until this afternoon, aru! Get out; I don't wait to see you until I have to!" Mr. Wang yelled, one of his eyes twitching ever so slightly._

_The American only smiled a toothy smile at the older Asian man. "Sorry but no can do, teach. You see, I have to say something really important to Mattie that most definitely can't wait because the sooner, the better with these sort of things. If I wait any longer than I already have, then he will get the totally wrong idea and I actually can't let that happen."_

_Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Mattie slouching down in his seat as he tried to hide from the sudden attention. Which was absolutely adorable if you asked Al – despite any protests from the "absolutely adorable" Canadian._

"_You have one minute to talk to him before I call security to kick you out of here."_

"_What do you want, Al? I thought that you understood that I didn't want to talk to you right now," Mattie half-whispered as Al confidently walked up to him._

_The whole class was paying attention to them – curious as to the reason why their normally boring class had been interrupted. And by someone who was usually known for running away from class. At the very least, there was none of Mattie's friends in this class – such as Miguel or Ivan – who would have attacked Al on sight._

_Al didn't have much time to waste though. "I was talking to Kiku about what happened yesterday, and I asked him why you were avoiding me. He asked me how I felt about you, and then if I had told you that after I had answered him. So, Mattie, here it goes," those indigo eyes widened, giving Al even more confidence to go through with this, "I don't know how I feel about you, not really. I can't put it into words. This is completely different from those times that I thought that I was in love back in high school. Nobody has ever made me feel like this. When I'm around you, I'm always happy even if I don't seem like it, unless you're completely miserable. Seeing you is the highlight of my day and I hate those days when we don't get the chance to see each other. You make me smile, you make me laugh, and my heart does this really weird thing whenever you even look at me. I don't know what this is because it feels like I would die without you. And I'm so sorry that I didn't realize it until now."_

_No one in the room could miss the look on the tanned man's face as he finished his small speech to the Canadian. Those words had come straight from the heart, they were completely honest, and they were begging for some sort of response._

"_Mr. Williams, do you have anything to say to that enthusiastic confession before I call security to cart him out of here, aru?" Mr. Wang asked, raising one of his dark brown eyebrows._

_All of a sudden, the normally slouched man seemed to stand up a little taller and a little straighter._

"_I don't believe you, Al."_

* * *

The moon and the stars were reflected off of the perfectly flat water, nothing else surrounding them for kilometres in any direction. There was no land in sight, just the open water that reminded Matthew so much of his voyage to France only a couple of years ago. This breathtaking beauty could not be seen in any other place in the world and the only other place that he had ever been able to see as far as the eye could see was in the Canadian prairies. Even that he only see a few times in his lifetime.

There were odd lights in water, along the edge of the ship as it slowly moved through the water. Every once in a while Matthew thought that he was able to see more of those odd lights moving underneath the water but it was quickly dismissed as his mind playing tricks on him.

It was already their third day of travel and Mr. Kirkland had assured the pale Canadian that they would reach his estate in just less than two days from now. The journey was rather long when he compared it to the journey from Mr. Bonnefoy's house to Mr. Carriedo's house but it was nothing when he did the opposite and compared it to the journey from the Northern colonies to France.

Even now, the homesick man could feel the urge to jump aboard a ship that would take him directly to his home country.

"Just what are you doing out here, Matthew? We are supposed to be below deck with the rest of the passengers."

Indigo eyes glanced over at the tall blonde man standing to his right, both of them leaning against the railing of the ship. To be honest, he was not all that surprised that Alfred had thought to look for him up here. And he was not surprised that this was the first time that the two of them had been even relatively alone since the night before they had set out on the trip to Mr. Kirkland's estate.

"And I could ask the same of you," Alfred pouted immediately, much to Matthew's amusement, "I… was feeling a bit homesick, to be honest. The last time that I was on a ship such as this one, I was travelling to France from Canada for the first time. My whole life had just been uprooted by a request that I was not allowed to ignore and by a brother that I had met maybe twice before then. Even now, I do not really know why he called for me of all people."

A tanned hand moved to overtop of its pale companion, just out of sight of the crew of the ship. It was safe, although a bit on the risky side.

"When we get back to shore, we will share a cigar. They have always reminded me of home for some reason. We will have to hide it from Artie though. He does not like the small of it for some reason. Says that it reminds him of whorehouses or something like that," Alfred proposed with a small smile on his face.

"I – I would like that, actually. It has been far too long since the last time that I had a cigar."

They relaxed back into a comfortable silence as Matthew turned his hand around and intertwined their fingers together with ease. It was impossible to do anything more than that lest they get caught. However, they revelled in the small bit of physical contact and intimacy that they allowed themselves to share with each other. Slowly, they became familiar with the way that their hands seemed to perfectly fit together; Matthew's long, thin fingers fitting perfectly between Alfred's strong, callused ones.

It was easy to convince themselves that what they had was right while they stood there like that.

Staring out at the calm, flat water only made it even easier that it would all work out the way that it was supposed to. One day they would be able to be together without any fear and without anything else holding them apart. Maybe they would live alone in their own house back either one of their hometowns. Or maybe they could take in a child or two from the orphanage that they could treat as their own. The details did not matter though, as long as they were happy.

If only that fantasy could be true.

"You did not truly know your brother before you moved into his house?" Alfred's words were almost hesitant and were lacking their usual confidence.

The indigo eyed man smiled over at his friend, his partner, whatever it was that they were to each other. "No, I did not. He came to see me and our mother on two separate occasions but for the most part he stayed in France with our father. Although, even Father visited more regularly than he did. So, I am sure that you can imagine my surprise when I receive his demands that I move into his estate. The last time that I had seen him was five years before, while Mother was still alive."

"He does love you though, right? He would not have turned towards you for comfort if he did not."

Matthew smiled coldly as he responded to the question, "You did not see the disappointment on his face when he came to meet me at the port that day. It was not me that he was looking for but someone else completely – someone who undoubtedly exists nowhere but in his deranged mind."

The two blonde North Americans fell back into silence once more although this time it was not content, but rather awkward. There was a cold, dark smirk on Matthew's face as he remembered the superficial way that he was forced to this continent, and it was reason enough for the tense atmosphere. Alfred's anger was probably only making it worse though, as he thought about the injustice that had been done to the man beside him.

"I did not want to move here either. My father thought that it was necessary that I come to learn proper manners or something like that. It was either this or I get disowned from them, despite Artie giving up on me after two weeks at the most. I am not allowed to go back there until I learn how to be a 'proper gentleman'," Alfred admitted.

"One day we will go back, eh? We will jump onto a ship and go back there. Maybe not to any town or area that we have gone to before but to a where we can forget about this awful place."

"As long as you were with me, Matthew, I would go to the end of the world and back."

"Sirs, I have to ask you to return to your cots for the night. You are not allowed to be up here," a crewman informed them from a little ways away.

At that, their hands immediately parted from each other's and the moment disappeared along with the physical contact. The crewman waited until they started walking back towards the stairs that led below deck before he went back to what he had been doing before.

The stairs were steep and narrow, causing them to stumble every once in a while as they made their below deck. By the time that they reached the area where their cots were, it was dark and rather chilly. But they could faintly see where their cots were – on opposite ends of the small area, much to their poor luck.

Matthew looked around the room as they silently stood there, not wanting to part from each other so soon. Once he was certain that no one else was awake, he leaned up slightly and lightly placed his lips onto the stunned American's cheek. A sense of euphoria filled him as he pulled away, only to have Alfred's fingertips move up to the place where his lips had just been.

"Thank you for the company, Alfred," the indigo eyed man whispered, before heading back over to his cot.

* * *

"_I don't believe you, Al," Mattie repeated, "And why should I believe you? For years now you've 'fallen in love' with people – anyone; everyone – only to fall back out of 'love' a few short weeks later. So why would this be any different than that?"_

_The tall, tanned American stared at the pale young man sitting in front of him. Mattie's posture was straight and tall with his shoulders pushed back, just like he would while he was playing hockey. However, he was also biting his bottom lip nervously, and one of his hands were grabbing onto something in his pocket. Mattie looked hurt, betrayed, and god damn it all, was that hope in those indigo eyes? The hurt was obviously winning out by the look of the tears starting to leak out of the corners of his eyes._

"_I… I…," Al stuttered._

"_Because it isn't any different. You _think_ that you love me or whatever you think this is because of that stupid journal that I found. Nothing more, nothing less. And then once you get over this, you'll just pretend that it was all just a silly little mistake and get on with your life. I'm sorry but I'm not putting myself through all of that just on a whim of yours."_

"_I'm not going to do that! You mean the world to me, Mattie! All those times that I was dumped instead of the other way around were because I spent more attention to you than I ever did to them. I just never figured it out until now!"_

"_What? Maybe the one time that someone actually dumped you. I am well aware that the majority of the time, you're the one doing the dumping instead of the other way around."_

"_Seventeen times. I have been dumped seventeen times because I cared more about you than I did them. And seventeen times I naively told them that 'of course I pay more attention to Mattie, he's my best friend and nothing is ever going to come between us'."_

_Mattie stared at him. _

_Mr. Wang stared at him._

_All of the class stared at him. _

_However, Al was too busy staring at Mattie to even notice anyone else in the room. He needed the stubborn blonde to understand what he was trying to tell him, and to give him some sort of chance to prove what he was saying. Mattie was more important to him that the people that he had dated before; he was more important to him than anyone else in this world. He wasn't just about to let go of him with the drop of a hat._

"_And I'll prove it to you too. Maybe not at this very moment or even today for that matter but I will prove it to you. Even if it takes me fifty years, I'll still do my best to prove to you that I don't want you to be some sort of fling or experiment. So for now, you'll see me tomorrow. Sorry about interrupting your class, Mr. Wang," Al promised confidently._

_And then Al was gone, just as suddenly as he had appeared. Leaving Mattie to collapse in his seat, breathing heavily as the tears finally escaped from the corners of his eyes with no resistance._


	8. Slowly Moving Tears

I'm so so sorry! I-I know that it's been a rather ridiculously long time A really, really ridiculously long time. I was only going to take a one week break but then I got sick, and the week after that, I ended up spending the whole weekend on a sowing machine, making my Halloween costume. So, once again, I'm really, really sorry!

On another note, I'm doing NaNoWriMo this year! So, my plan is to update today (obviously) and then to update again on the 18th. After November ends, I'll be back to my normal updating schedule but you'll also get a hopefully awesome UKCan story... eventually! I feel like I should be apologizing again... But I will be going back to my normal updating schedule in December, I promise!

Thanks to the wonderful people who reviewed, alerted, and favourited. It just makes my day when I wake up and see another review in my e-mail.

I hope you enjoy, and please review!

I don't own APH.

* * *

**Tear Me Apart  
**_Chapter Eight: Slowly Moving Tears_

* * *

The Kirkland estate was a lot different than one would have imagined. It was located in one of the busier parts of London and had almost a hundred people every day walking along the fancy asphalt roads.

Far different from anything that Matthew had ever seen before, the estate was grand yet compact to the limited amount of land that was available for them. There were three floors but each one could have only been a quarter of the size of the floors that made up Mr. Bonnefoy's house. It was absolutely nothing when one compared it to either Mr. Bonnefoy's or Mr. Carriedo's estates, yet it seemed like so much more at the exact same time. It was rather easy to tell that this place was not just a house but a home too.

And that was the difference between them, Matthew confidently decided. There was more to this place than just a room to sleep in – even Alfred seemed to be rather relieved to be back here.

The Canadian was extremely honoured that they had actually brought him here. They could have brought him to a different estate out in the countryside or something but it would not have meant nearly as much to them.

"I do hope that you will be comfortable here during your stay. I am aware that this place is not as grand as some of the places you have stayed in but we normally entertain our guests in our estate along the coast," Mr. Kirkland politely commented as they walked inside.

"The only reason we are here even now is because I convinced Artie that you would not mind staying at a place that is a bit more… comfortable," Alfred added in, cheerfully.

Matthew smiled softly at the two of them. "This is true. My home – my actual home back in the colonies – was a lot more modest than my current residence. In truth, Francis and I have little in common outside of our shared blood."

Alfred looked like he wanted to say something but Arthur jumped right in with his own opinion. "You would not believe how much of a good thing that is, Mr. Williams. Your brother is a seriously delusional man in ways that neither of you would even begin to imagine. Considered yourself blessed in that regard."

All three of them stood awkwardly in the entranceway of the home as none of them were completely sure how to respond to Mr. Kirkland's rather strange comment. Including Mr. Kirkland himself. Even the servants took that as the sign to quickly grab the luggage and take it away to their rooms. The tanned American looked at his cousin with a single blond eyebrow raised while the quieter man of the three reached into his pocket, his hand clutching at warm, smooth metal.

"I – I have to excuse myself. If either of you have need of me, I will be upstairs in my study," the British man excused himself.

They watched as the emerald eyed man quickly disappeared, almost tripping on the edge of a rug as he hurried away. A couple of seconds later, they heard a loud crash coming from somewhere down that same hallway, accompanied by several even louder curses that were most definitely not suited for any sort of polite company. Neither Alfred nor Matthew hurried to go see what just had happened to Mr. Kirkland though.

"I do have to admit that that was just a bit on the more peculiar side of things, even for Artie. I wonder what happened between him and Mr. Bonnefoy to get him to react quite like that. Even I have to work at it a bit more than normal to get Artie to act anything close to that," Alfred admitted, his eyes glued on the hallways that Mr. Kirkland had disappeared down just seconds before.

"I do hope that my brother was not acting out because of his grief over Miss Jeanne. I would not be surprised if that were the case though," the Canadian commented with a shake of his head.

The blue eyed blond started walking, his eyes moving over to Matthew as he did so. The indigo eyed man took the hint and easily fell into step beside him. Their hands brushed against the other every couple of seconds or so, as the knowledge that the only people who would be able to see them was the help filled them. The same help that were paid to keep silent about anything that happened inside of the house that was out of the ordinary.

They were safe here.

"Miss Jeanne? May I ask who this woman is?" Alfred asked, a small frown growing on his face.

"You do not need to worry quite so much, Alfred, as I never actually had the chance to meet her myself. She is Francis's late wife, if you are so curious. She died while giving birth to their first child a couple of years ago. This was right before Francis sent for me, in fact," the Canadian easily explained.

"So that is you brother's excuse for bringing you here then. What happened to the babe though? I have never heard about Mr. Bonnefoy having a child."

"The babe died mere days after it was given life. Truthfully, I think that the child's death hit Francis even harder than the death of his late wife, despite any denial towards that fact. He had even named the babe. Michelle was her name, if my memory serves me correctly."

Alfred glanced over at the young man beside him who was blankly staring in front of him. Matthew did not seem to be affected by the death of this woman at all. Not that it was all that surprising in itself. He had never actually met the woman himself, and chances were that he had only heard stories about her from the servants and a very drunk Mr. Bonnefoy on occasion. Matthew had no need to mourn for a woman that he had never known but he still felt the need to mourn for his older brother's sanity and peace of mind.

"Are you alright?"

"Of course I am alright. It is my brother that I am truly worried about, not myself."

They walked for a little while longer, going past countless wooden doors that were both opened and closed. Paintings of people that Matthew did not know filled the walls and thick, velvet curtains framed the windows. At one point in time, they went up a couple sets of stairs, leading them up to the third and uppermost floor. It wasn't long before Alfred suddenly stopped right in front of a closed door without even a hint of warning to Matthew.

"This is the room that Artie had prepared for your stay here. It will be yours for however long you end up staying with us," the tanned man informed the Canadian as he nervously glanced towards the door.

"Al-alright then. Are you going to retire to your rooms until supper is called or are you…?"

Matthew's indigo eyes flickered towards the suddenly daunting door, all too aware of the things that it could represent in this moment. But Alfred had promised that they would not do anything of a less than innocent nature until they were as close as two people in their situation could be. That did not meant that he was about to back down from anything that Alfred suggested. As long as it did not cause him ridiculous amounts of physical pain, then he would be fine.

"I, well, can I come inside? There is something that I wish to talk to you about but I do not think that we should just be talking about it in the middle of the hallways," Alfred gave Matthew a small yet reassuring grin.

"Of course," was the immediate response.

They quickly entered the room, looking around the hall first as if they expected someone to appear out of nowhere. But no one did and a few moments later, the heavy wooden door was closed behind them. Matthew quickly moved to sit down on the single sized bed, right next to his luggage, while Alfred leaned from side to side beside the small desk in the room.

"So, what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?" the smaller man asked, looking at a well-placed picture sitting on the wall.

Alfred bit at his bottom lip. "Could you look at me first? This would be a lot less embarrassing for me if you did," Matthew looked back over, deliberately making eye contact with those beautiful baby blue eyes, "I was, um, wondering if you would sleep… in another room. This room would still be at your disposal during your stay here but you would sleep in a… different room."

"A different room? Would there be a reason as to why I would be sleeping elsewhere or is this just some ridiculous whim of yours?"

"Well, it could be called a whim of mine but there is a specific room that I would be requesting that you sleep in. This is only if you agree to it, of course."

A small smile began to appear on the Canadian's face. "And just what room would that be?"

"It is just the room across the hall from this one, actually. Although it has been more commonly known as my bedroom throughout my stay here. Nothing would happen that both of us do not want. I just want you there with me. I want your face to be the first thing that I see in the morning."

Matthew slowly stood up and walked towards the nervous American. His eyes almost looked like they were sparkling and there was a small smile playing on his face but Alfred was far too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice any of these things. The Canadian almost laughed out loud as he noticed the reddening colour that was starting to appear on those tanned cheeks. Instead, he chose to place a light kiss on one of those reddening cheeks, reveling in the surprised yet happy look on the other man's face.

"Of course I will spend the night with you," Matthew whispered softly.

"Oh."

Strong arms wrapped around Matthew's waist, pulling him close to that warm, handsome body. Matthew's head rested perfectly in the crook of Alfred's shoulder and his arms easily reached up to wrap themselves around the American's neck. He could even hear the constant beat of a heart right in his ear. They were so close to each other that the indigo eyed man almost could not tell where one of them began and the other one ended. It had been days since the last time that they had been able to do more than faintly brush their fingertips together.

"Thank you, thank you so much," Alfred whispered into Matthew's hair.

The slightly smaller man could only guess what the blue eyed blond was thanking him for and hold on to him even tighter than he had been before.

* * *

_Dinner was a strange affair at the Kirkland house. Arthur seemed to be off in his own little world for some reason or another, not once commenting on the sulking going on at the other end of the table. Al was most definitely the one doing said sulking, even going as far to dump his dishes into the sink after he ate part of his meal and then collapsing on the coach with the television blaring._

_It was only after Alfred had lain down on the coach that he allowed himself to relax, at least a little bit. He was certain that his older brother was in the kitchen, cleaning up the mess that he had left for him. White teeth appeared as they bit into Alfred's bottom lip and his shoulders slowly started to shake. Everything that he had been holding back since late that morning all came rushing forward at once. The TV was actually being completely ignored for once, in favour of the emotions coursing through him._

"_You never watch the news, Alfred. Although I must say that – are you crying? What's wrong? Did something happen? I swear, you haven't cried since that time you broke your leg back when you were 15 or so," Arthur demanded._

_Al cursed to himself, his hands immediately reaching under his glasses to wipe away the tears that had appeared there moments before. As always, Arthur seemed to have the absolute worst timing out of anyone that he knew. It wasn't like the Brit needed someone to bring down this rare good mood of his anyways._

"_Alfred, does this have anything at all to do with Matthew? Francis phoned me earlier to say that the poor lad came home early in shambles today, and that the only thing that he could get out of him was that it had something to do with you."_

_Guilt burned through the American's veins the same way that his blood normally did, but the glare that he gave Arthur was enough of an answer._

"_Bloody hell, Alfred! I can't help you when you're acting like you're 5 instead of 19!"_

"_And just why should I tell you? There's nothing that you can do about it anyways! It's my own fucking fault that I was such a man whore that now that I think I may actually be in love with someone, they don't believe me! See, it's my own damn fault… Fuck!"_

_The blue eyed blond buried his face into his knees as they curled up close to him. His pants were getting slightly damp but he couldn't find it in himself to care right at that moment._

_Arthur carefully walked over to the other side of the couch, sitting down right at Al's feet._

"_So that's what this is about," Arthur commented quietly._

"_Yes, that is what this is about. Did you think that we had some silly argument over which one of us looks better or something?" Al snapped._

"_No, I didn't. I was hoping that it didn't actually have anything to do with you at all. In fact, I should have been expecting something that was more along those lines. I know that there's nothing that I can say that will change your mind about this, and I wouldn't even if I could. But I do have a piece of advice for you."_

"_If you tell me that I should just give up on Mattie or that all things come to those who wait, I will kill you in your sleep. Slowly and painfully. And when you least expect it."_

_Arthur fought back the scowl as he noticed the seriousness on his younger brother's face. "I've been in Matthew's position before, lad. Trust me when I say that he cares for you, but right at this moment, he's hurting. He thinks that you're just going to throw him away when you get bored with him. Even just learning that you may actually return his feelings is probably throwing him off right now. So you need to be patient because only time will convince him that you're actually serious about him."_

_Al looked up at his older brother, his baby blue eyes meeting familiar green eyes. This was his brother, despite any fights and arguments that they would often get into or petty little things that would always seem to come in between them. And that meant that they would always be there when they need each other the most._

"_Thanks Artie. That doesn't really help because I was already planning on doing that but you know, thanks anyways. Now, just don't tell me anything about when you were in the same situation as Mattie and we'll be all good."_

"_You're absolutely horrible, I hope that you know that."_

"_Of course I am! I wouldn't be able to bother you so easily if I wasn't horrible. And it's so fun to get you angry. Not to mention that it's fucking hilarious."_

* * *

The three of them were sitting in the parlour, drinking tea. The evening meal had already started and passed. And as was customary, Mr. Kirkland had asked if they would share a cup of tea with him, leading them here. Matthew was not completely sure whether or not he was enjoying this – a cup of tea an hour or two before bed was always something that he had enjoyed. But the room was filled with an awkward silence, no one quite sure how to bring up what had happened earlier in the day. Even Alfred looked at least halfway uncomfortable.

"I do hope that you made yourself comfortable this afternoon, Mr. Williams, and that everything is to your liking here. I would hate it if you were uncomfortable here," Mr. Kirkland spoke up.

The pale Canadian bit his tongue. There was no need for Mr. Kirkland to know just how comfortable he had made himself earlier that afternoon. That was something that would stay between Matthew and Alfred, and hopefully no one else.

"Everything was perfect, Mr. Kirkland, you have absolutely no need to worry. My room is comfortable and your cousin makes for pleasant company, believe it or not. This is much better than even Francis's house back in France."

Alfred found that was the best time to add in, "Of course I am good company. I doubt that you would have been able to find better company in all of Europe, even if you tried. So you should really give me the credit for making Matthew's stay here so far perfect, cousin!"

"Well, I am glad that Alfred was able to keep you company while I was unable to do so, Mr. Williams."

It was then that the indigo eyed man noticed Mr. Kirkland's tense posture. He was sitting on the very edge of his seat, and his back was as straight as a board. Even his grip on the handle of his teacup was a bit tighter than necessary. Matthew was considerably more comfortable than the Brit with his straight back resting against the back of the chair. Only the American seemed completely comfortable though as he was slouched back in his chair, obviously fighting the urge to put his feet up on the coffee table.

"I… have to apologize to you, actually, Mr. Williams. I have been completely unfair to you, even if you have been completely unaware of it," Mr. Kirkland admitted, his hand clutching his teacup even tighter.

A frown appeared on the strawberry blonde's face as he considered these odd words. "I am sorry but I am not capable of accepting your apology without knowing just what you are apologizing for. To the best of my knowledge, you have done nothing to offend me and you have no treated me any differently than you treat anyone else."

"Artie, what are you talking about?" Alfred added in, a strange look in his eyes.

The green eyed blond hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering to another part of the room. The delicate teacup that Mr. Kirkland was using moved up to his lips and the rest of the liquid disappeared down his throat. And then the teacup was placed on the coffee table in front of them with a louder than necessary thunk. It almost looked like the Brit was preparing himself to flee from the room – or to fight.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Canadian could see Alfred doing something similar.

Mr. Kirkland swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "It is true though. I have been completely unfair to you and it was completely unwarranted. The moment that I found out you were Francis's younger brother, I refused to think of you as anything else. In my mind, you have been just as bad as your brother is, regardless of the fact that the two of you were brought up in two very different situations and I did not give you the chance to prove that you are any different from him. And that is why I am apologizing to you. Well, that, and the fact that you have shown to me that you are a completely different person than your brother."

A teacup slammed onto the table and a blond immediately stood up, a snarl on his face. Baby blue eyes were fierce and it was surprisingly easy to see the anger in them. Before he could lash out at his cousin though, highly amused laughter interrupted him, diffusing the situation almost completely.

"That is what you are apologizing to me for? That is completely fine; many other people have done me worse injustices because of my relations with Francis. This? This is nothing," Matthew admitted.

"I do have to admit that this doesn't comfort me in the slightest."

Matthew merely gave the man a small smile, one that did not show any of his emotions on the matter. His eyes seemed almost empty in a way, as if someone had sucked out all of his emotions, leaving an empty shell that could only show politeness and faked amusement. The last of his tea – now tasting far too bitter and rather cold – easily disappeared and he simply stood up from his chair.

"Well, if you do excuse me, I am going to retire for the night. It is getting out and it has been a rather long day today. I am sure that you will agree," Matthew excused himself.

Baby blue and emerald eyes watched the rather pale man as he slowly walked out of the parlour. Alfred sent his cousin a scorching look before trailing after him, leaving Mr. Kirkland alone in the room. It was obvious that there was no stopping either of them, no matter how much he wished to. The ending result if that were to happen would not be something that any of the general public would like to see.

"Matthew, please wait for me!" Alfred called, hoping that his voice would reach into Matthew's mind.

There was no response from the quieter Canadian, at least not a verbal response. His feet were moving a little bit faster than they had been a few seconds before. Alfred did not care though, he just needed to make sure that Matthew was alright. He needed to break down those hastily put up barriers before they got even stronger and harder to get rid of.

It was no until the indigo eyed man had climbed up the stairs and taken a couple of familiar hallways that Alfred begun to realize just where he was headed. And even then, it was not until Matthew had entered a certain room that had been pointed out to him earlier that day that the American was entirely sure.

Matthew purposely left the door open, knowing full well that he was being followed by a very persistent man. A pair of shoes found their way to the floor but he did not pause for even a second before throwing himself onto the bed in front of him. Alfred's scent immediately overtook him in a way that it has never done before, both as comforting and reassuring as his mother had once been.

"Matthew…"

Warm, strong arms enveloped the smaller man, offering him a sort of silent comfort. The Canadian relaxed slightly, easily accepting it now that they were behind closed doors and now that they did not have to worry.

"I – I hate this. So many people judge me because of my brother's flirtatious ways. When most men realize who I am, they fear that I will seduce their wives or their sisters just as my brother would. What Mr. Kirkland told me is not nearly as bad as some of the things that people have thought of me in the past. Yet, it still hurts," Matthew explained, quietly.

"I do not think of you in such a way. To me, you are Matthew, nothing more and nothing less. Besides, I am far more worried that you will steal my own heart and be off with it than you stealing my imaginary wife's heart," Alfred admitted, just as quietly.

The strawberry blond let out a quiet laugh. "And that makes me happier than you will ever know."

Alfred responded by tightening his grip around the man that had just about stolen his heart away from him. He knew better than Matthew thought he did.

* * *

_It was early the next morning when al stood on the front porch of the Bonnefoy home. He had a bouquet of freshly picked flowers from Arthur's garden (which may have not been taken with permission) in his arms, and was unusually nervous. Picking Mattie up in the mornings had never caused him this much stress in the past – no matter what he had done to mess things up._

_And he had done a lot more than he liked to admit._

_Hesitantly, he pressed the doorbell, knowing that he couldn't procrastinate any longer than he already had. This, too, was something relatively new. It had been years and years since the last time that he had actually rang the doorbell instead of coming inside the house unannounced. But doing that didn't seem quite right anymore. Not after what had happened the day before._

"_Alfred, is that you? Ah, I see. So my suspicions were right after all," Francis commented as he opened the door, a single eyebrow raised._

"_Hey Francis. Um, Mattie wouldn't happen to be at home still, would he?" the blue eyed blond asked, fidgeting as he stood on the porch._

"_You just managed to miss him. He had that disturbing young man come and pick him up – the one that always seems to have some sort of a problem with you… The Russian one that has a problem with you, I mean. I suppose that those flower aren't for me, no?"_

"_Nah, they're for Mattie, whenever I manage to track him down."_

_The Frenchman stood up a little bit taller, his blue eyes sparkling with sudden interest. He still stood a couple inches shorter than Al did. However, that was rather hard to notice when there was a smirk on his face that told of mischief and mayhem. Al had seen it many, many times before, most often when someone mentioned love. Or Mattie._

…_He was screwed._

"_If this is the case then you must come in and we will… discuss this further. I have an idea that I am sure mon petit chaton will absolutely love. I know that your class does not start for a couple of hours yet."_


	9. Lovely Intertwined Hands

Have I ever mentioned that I'm a horrible, horrible person? I swear that I didn't mean to leave you all for the whole month of November... it just kind of happened that way. It could have had something to do with the fact that I wrote (and won!) NaNoWriMo... and did the whole thing by hand. Just a heads up, don't try it. Your hands may very well fall into tiny little pieces. Or something.

But I have Chapter Nine here for all of you. And... it's good? I don't know. Don't ask me. Read it for yourselves. And then review. Pretty please? I'll give you all cookies - whatever flavour you want them to be too.

I do not own.

* * *

**Tear Me Apart  
**_Chapter Nine: Lovely Intertwined Hands_

* * *

Matthew looked around the bedroom, a small smile playing on the corners of his lips. "So, this is what your rooms look like."

"You have been in these very rooms since early last night. How is it that you are just figuring out what they look like now?" Alfred asked him, raising a single golden blond eyebrow.

The tall blond grinned happily over at the American who was lying down on the large bed before he went back to his careful examination of Alfred's room. Just like the rest of the house, it seemed to be a bit on the small side. For some reason though, it seemed to suit the blue eyed blond. Although the large American flag decorating the walls most likely had something to do with that. Other than the flag, it was a rather practical room with a dresser and a writing desk being the main pieces of furniture outside of the bed.

"If you were to think about it, I did spend the vast majority of that time in your bed. So while I know much about the vast expanses of your bed, I do not know what is in the rest of your room," Matthew explained, fondly.

"Ah, so you did not spend hours awake, memorizing the layout of my room? And here I thought that you would have…"

"No, I was memorizing the layout of something much easier on the eyes during those many hours I spent awake last night."

An awkward silence filled the room as Alfred did not respond to the easily spoken comment. The indigo eyed man's cheeks slowly started to flush as he looked over to see why he had not received said response. He could have sworn that his words had sounded much more innocent in his own mind. It did not mean that there was not any truth behind the words though.

He looked away, only to suddenly spot something sitting on the American's writing desk. "What exactly are these things? I was under the impression that most grew out of dolls when they were still young children."

The blue eyed blond responded quickly, a small pout on his face, "Those are not dolls, I swear it! They are toy soldiers that I got as a Christmas present years and years ago. If you actually look at them, you will see that they actually wear the American uniform. You cannot mock them so easily!"

Matthew easily picked one of the "toy soldiers" up from the small desk to examine it. It had obviously been carved by hand, and was dressed in a well detailed American uniform that was complete with a wooden rifle and sword hanging by the hip. It was surprisingly well crafted despite the slightly amateur look to it. And there was no doubt that Alfred had been taking good care of it over the years too.

But…

"No matter what they are dressed in, they are still nothing more than dolls. You will not be able to change my mind on this one, Alfred."

The pout on the blue eyed blonde's face only became more apparent after those words had easily come from the smaller man's mouth. With a slight roll of the eyes, Matthew put the small wooden soldier back on the writing desk and walked over to the window. The curtains were closed but he could hear the soft patter of rain coming from them.

A strong pair of arms wrapped around his waist, forcing him to pay attention to the American man standing right behind him. Those arms pulled him close to a toned chest and a chin came down to softly rest on his shoulder. Matthew could feel almost every inch of the man he was almost in love with pressed up against him, and he easily relaxed into the embrace.

It was becoming so much more natural to him than he would have ever expected.

"Are you completely sure that I am not capable of changing your mind? I can be rather persuasive when I want to be."

"Yes, I am fairly certain that you will not be able to change my mind on this, but please, do not let that stop you from trying."

The Canadian turned his head ever so slightly so that he could see the man holding onto him. His vision was immediately filled with baby blue eyes that were filled with so much emotion. He could hardly even take a single moment to breathe with Alfred staring at him like that. Then those baby blue eyes flickered down to glance at his lips before slowly looking him in the eyes once again. Permission. This lovely, wonderful man wanted permission.

He smiled softly, "It is fine. Just stop wasting so much time. I want this just as much as you do, if not more."

"Anything you say, Matthew."

And then rough, chapped lips were pressing against his slightly smoother, softer ones. The strawberry blond slightly pressed back, his indigo eyes simply closing in this wonderful bliss. This was everything and nothing that he had been expecting all at the same time. But he could not have asked for anything more either.

Alfred pulled away a couple of seconds later, his eyes fond, "So, is that enough persuasion for you? Or will I have to try and… convince you further?"

The smile teased his lips, and he instantly spotted the nervousness hiding in Alfred's baby blue eyes. Could this man not tell how much happiness this brought him? Matthew would not go back to the fairer sex for even a brief moment if this was what Alfred could offer him. Not that he would ever be able to completely erase the feeling of those strong arms resting around his waist. Not in a million years.

"No," the Canadian watched as his (his? Really, truly his?) new found partner deflated before he continued, "I have already told you that you will be unable to convince me that those… soldiers of yours are not dolls. You are welcome to try and… convince me of the contrary anytime that you wish."

The blue eyed blond easily turned Matthew around in his arms so that they were facing each other properly. There was a wide grin on his face and Matthew quickly and effortlessly matched it with his own wide grin. The shorter of the two easily wrapped his arms around the other's neck, now that he was able to. It felt wonderful to hold and be held like this. That he knew his affections were returned with just as much enthusiasm. Even more enthusiasm, it seemed like at times.

"We… we are going to Hell for this, Alfred," Matthew commented, his mood turning sour.

"That is impossible. It will only truly be Hell if you are not there with me. And you will be there with me, even if I wish that it was not so, as both of us have sinned in that case. Not that I could let you be without me after all of this."

"Will you kiss me then? I do not think that I can go another second without your lips against mine now that I have felt them once."

"Anything that your heart desires, darling."

He scowled at Alfred, but then they were kissing and it did not matter. What mattered was this feeling. Both of them reveled in each other as their lips pressed together insistently with only a brief moment's reprieve. Matthew easily lost himself – it was so, so easy – in the feeling of those arms wrapped around him and those chapped lips as pressed against his own again and again.

Still, there was something a bit innocent about the whole thing. As if there could have been more. As if there should be more than just this. No matter how much he loved it.

Slowly, they stopped and rested their foreheads together. Both of them were breathing just that little bit faster than they had been before. And their lips were red, swelling ever so slightly. There were still smiles on their faces as they looked at the person in front of them. The person that was beginning to mean so much more than just someone they had met at an extravagant party.

"I will have you know that you have just stolen my first kiss from me," the Canadian whispered, the words flowing from his mouth.

"Your first? I doubt that you care too much as you practically begged me to take it from you," Alfred teased, before pausing for a moment, "Does that… does that mean that what you told me that night, back at Mr. Carriedo's home was the truth? You did not lie to me?"

"Every word that I had spoken that night was the truth, whether you believe me or not."

"I… I see."

The blue eyed blond leaned forward ever so slightly, gently pressing their lips together one last time. The kiss itself only lasted for a few short seconds, but it was filled with so much more emotion. More love. And forgiveness for not believing sooner. When they parted, they lingered for a moment as their breath slowly mixed together.

"How about we go for a walk through the gardens? It seems to have stopped for now and I believe that we will be the only ones out there this afternoon. The gardeners do not show up until later on this week," Alfred suggested, quietly.

"That would be lovely."

* * *

"_That would be absolutely horrible, Alfred."_

_The American gaped at the man walking beside him in disbelief. Toris, on the other hand, didn't waver for even a single second. There was no way that he was going to let his close friend make a complete fool out of himself in front of someone they liked. Not to mention the personal embarrassment he would be going through for being a part of it. And he didn't even want to begin to think about what Mattie would be going through if it happened._

"_What are you talking about? It's an amazing idea! Mattie will fall in love with me in no time because of this!"_

"_You want me to give Matthew a note telling him to come to the university's football field. That's where you plan on serenading him and then give him cheap flowers. That plan would fail regardless of the obvious flaws in it, such as your horrible singing and the fact that the flowers are wilting already. No offense, but it's true," the brunet explained, calmly._

"_I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. Not in the slightest. The hero doesn't make mistakes… although… why would it fail despite those things?"_

_Toris sighed wearily, mentally regretting his decision to say 'yes' without asking when Al had asked him to do something. Most would have learnt to say no to the enthusiastic blond by this point in time. On the other hand, most weren't aware that there was a way to say no to Alfred F. Jones. _

_Said enthusiastic blond was walking sullenly beside the Lithuanian, his eyes not once straying to the pretty, colourful flowers alongside the paved path. He really didn't want to believe that the plan he had come up with, with Francis, would fail despite the so-called obvious flaws in it. (Which he totally didn't believe, by the way. Toris was making things up.) This type of thing always worked in the movies and the movies had never failed him before now. And neither had Francis, for that matter._

"_It would fail because Matthew, from what you've told me about him, wouldn't appreciate any of it. In fact, I doubt that he would last a whole minute in that stadium before he ran out, completely embarrassed and upset."_

_Well, that was just silly._

"_But Mattie's dad said that he would love it!" Al exclaimed._

"_If you even try it, I will tell him that you unintentionally plan on embarrassing him in the football field when I give him the note."_

_The blue eyed blond pouted, disappointed with this new turn of events. His baby blue eyes suddenly scanned over the university property, as he tried to think of another not embarrassing way to woo his best friend. His eyes stopped on an all too familiar figure walking towards them, their indigo eyes glued to the sidewalk. A grin made its way onto his face as he half expected Mattie to look up and wave at him like everything was normal._

"_It really does look like he's ignoring you, even if I don't blame him whatsoever," Toris commented, as he too spotted the blond Canadian._

_Anguish slammed into Al's chest like a semi-truck as he asked, "What do I do? Artie said that if I do anything too forward then I'll only scare him away but I'm not going to do nothing. I hate this, Toris, I really, really hate this."_

"_You could always ask him out to coffee or something of the sort. Go tell him that you only want to spend time with him and then offer to pay for him, if you can."_

"_And then what?"_

"_If he says yes, then go have coffee with him later and then actually talk to him. If he says no, then try again some other time. It has only been a day since you went and messed up."_

_Al nodded at the words and took off towards the rather tired looking blond, leaving Toris in his wake. He would get Mattie to agree to have coffee with him, no matter what. Even if Mattie didn't really want to, well, it wasn't as if the Canadian had ever been able to say no to him for too long._

"_Hey, Mattie! I really need to talk to you about something," Al asked, as he approached the strawberry blond._

_Mattie merely kept his gaze glued to the sidewalk and continued walking, as if the American wasn't there at all. Even when Al moved to stand in front of the Canadian, he just walked right around him without a single word and still didn't even bother to look up. And it hurt. It almost physically hurt him for Mattie to do this to him._

"_Mattie, please," the blue eyed blond pleaded, grabbing onto the shorter man's arm._

_The indigo eyed man yanked his arm away, finally reacting, "What do you want from me, Alfred? You have already completely humiliated me in front of my entire class yesterday. Nice joke, by the way, now you get to go and laugh it up while I mourn the one think that really meant something to me!"_

"_And I already told you, Mattie! I was being serious yesterday. And I still plan on making you see just how serious I am!"_

_Al gulped as Mattie finally looked in the eyes for the first time that day. Tears were slowly making their way down his best friend's cheeks, but that wasn't the worst thing about any of this. At least it wasn't the worst thing to Al. It was the unbridled pain showing so blatantly in those indigo eyes. Pain. Hurt. Betrayal. And then there was that tiny sliver of hope that was still hiding behind all of that. _

_He was disgusted with himself. After all, he was the only one who had ever caused this much pain, even if it hadn't been intentional._

"_I'm going to ask you again, and this time you're going to answer me properly. What do you want from me?"_

"_You. I want you. All of you until the very end of time would be very much preferable but I also know that it's not going to be quite that easy. So, how about coffee? For now, at least. Thursday morning at 11 AM, just like we always do. I'll even pay for you."_

"_Al… please, stop."_

"_You don't have to say yes. I'll be there on Thursday no matter what. So if you show up then great, that's amazing. You couldn't make me happier. If you don't show up, well, then I'll try something else because I'm not about to give up."_

_The American leaned forward ever so slightly, closing his eyes for only a moment as his lips made contact with a smooth forehead. Then, just as quickly as it had started, it ended and Al was bounding off back towards Toris. Toris who had been patiently waiting for them to have their moment. And Mattie didn't even get a chance to say a single word before he was gone, walking away with a slight bounce in his step._

_And the two walking away didn't get the chance to see the Canadian's cheeks redden. And they didn't see the way that Mattie slowly reached up, his fingers lingering on the spot where Al's lips had been just moments before._

* * *

"It is so silent out here," Matthew commented, idly.

"I know it is. That is why I love to come out here on days like this. When everyone's gone for a little while," the blue eyed blond replied, happily.

Yellow and orange leaves fell to the ground around the pair as they slowly strolled through the nicely landscaped yard. Gardens surrounded them. Gardens that had been full of flowers that had radiated colours of every shade just a few short months ago. There was a slight overcast at the moment, and it would probably start raining anytime now. It was also one of the only reasons why they could walk outside like this. Without any fear of being caught.

Two hands were intertwined together, one slightly pale while the other one was tanned. Their bodies were closely pressed together, barely leaving a space between them at any point. Matthew was lightly resting his head on Alfred's should, happily taking advantage of the slight height difference. Neither of them were going to question this time that they had together, no matter how odd it might be. They would take the opportunity that had been presented to them.

"I know the feeling. Some of my favourite memories back in France are of wandering the grounds either by myself or with Gilbert. It is one of the few times that he is quiet, quite like someone else that I know," the Canadian added, his eyes flickering over to Alfred.

"I am not completely sure whether I should be more concerned about this Gilbert fellow or these favourite memories of yours."

"Gilbert is a man who is almost 10 years my senior, and I have never thought of him as more than a close friend. In fact, you are the first and only man that I have ever thought of as more than a friend. As for the memories…," Matthew moved his free hand into his front pant pocket, clutching at warm metal, "Would it please you to know that meeting you is also one of my favourite memories from that place?"

"Yes… I have to admit that does please me."

The strawberry blond rolled his indigo eyes, a soft smile settling on his face. He had to admit that he really was enjoying all of the attention that he had been receiving from Alfred over the past few days. No one had ever showered him with quite this much attention before. And none of it had been of this nature either. Even he could not blame himself for enjoying it. At least while it lasted, for neither of them knew just what the next day would bring.

"What is that in your pocket? I have seen you reach for it a few times before but I have never actually seen you take it out of your pocket."

Matthew quickly lifted his head from the American's shoulder, his eyes wide in surprise. Those baby blue eyes were patient though, far more understanding than any other who had asked him about it before. The Canadian relaxed a bit, taking his hand out of his pocket with his pocket watch still tight in his grasp.

"It is a pocket watch," the shorter man explained, hesitantly handing it over to Alfred.

Alfred slowly pulled his hand away so that he could grab the smooth piece of clock work. Indigo eyes watched intently as it rolled through strong fingers, ready to grab it at a moment's notice. The artistic pattern on the outside was easily examined and the lid clicked open to reveal a fancy clock, ticking the seconds away. Alfred's fingers slowly ran over the area inside of the lid.

"So… what is so special about this? It is obviously important to you with the way you are watching over me like a harpy, but why? I want to know everything about you, Matthew, and that includes this," the American asked.

The pale man blushed at the sensually spoken words, "My mother gave it to me before she died a few years ago. It did not mean much to me at the time but now, now I am reminded that she watches over me every time that I touch it. Even now, even though so much time has passed us by."

"You are so adorable."

The light red quickly turned dark on Matthew's cheeks and his jaw dropped as his mind slowly tried to process the words that had just been said. Alfred beamed at him and skipped ahead a few steps, pocket watch firmly in one of his hands. The Canadian easily picked up the pace, intent on catching up to the blue eyed blond who was running away from him.

"Let us see if you still find me adorable after I am through with you, Alfred Jones!" the indigo eyed man exclaimed, determination quietly burning in his eyes.

The American just laughed happily as he broke into a light jog, a flash of gold metal disappearing into some hidden pocket in his coat. There was a grin on his face, so wild and unruly. So different from the polite young man that was presented to the general public. Nothing, or at least close to nothing, could stop him at this point in time. Although, Matthew found that he was more inclined to preserve this moment than go and destroy for nothing more than petting reasons.

Shorter legs started pumping faster than they had in years, chasing after the rampant man. It was improper to move one's body in such a way, after all. Still, there was a joyous laughter in the air and it took Matthew a few seconds to realize that he was the one doing the laughing. The gardens zoomed past him and he swore that he caught a servant or two watching them from inside of the house.

Then Alfred was only a few short feet in front of him. Close enough to reach if he tried. And so he pushed his legs the extra mile, and leapt into the air.

Both of them landed on the ground a moment later with a dull thump, laughing with no reason.

Dirt surely covered all of their clothes, especially as Alfred rolled over onto his back. It was damp and a bit smelly but it was the best thing in the world. The wide smiles on their faces were only proof of that. How long had it been since he was able to let go like this?

"Bloody hell, you can sure run fast. You did not tell me about that. Although… I do have to admit that I still think you are adorable," Alfred commented, wrapping his arms around Matthew's thin waist.

"Oh, shut it, would you?" the Canadian muttered, letting himself fall into the strong grip.

"I cannot do that. I promise that I will remind you about it until I am incapable of talking. And then, when I can no longer speak, I will write it down for you until my hands fall off. I will never let you forget my thoughts towards you as long as I am still living."

"Idiot, it will mean nothing to me if you are dead because of this."

And the pocket watch meant nothing compared to this, Matthew figured. He would always know that his mother was watching over him somewhere in the back of his mind. But with Alfred hold him like this, he would always know that he had someone to look after him. And a little voice in the back of his mind insisted that his mother had been the one to send this charismatic man to him. It was the only thing that truly made sense.

* * *

_Mattie was important to Al, no matter what the upset Canadian thought. No one else kept him so anchored and secure in who he was. No one else could call him an idiot without getting a nice, solid punch in the face. No one else's opinion mattered to him as much as Mattie's did. Hell, he was the only one that could ever make him cry._

_And that was why the blue eyed blond was sitting in his older brother's office, one of his most hated places on Earth, waiting for the Brit to finish whatever it was that he was working on. Because despite whatever it was that Mattie thought, these journals did matter in some way or another. Even if it was just showing that Al did love Mattie in every single meaning of the world. Or that Al loved Mattie despite what had happened in the journals. After all, the past didn't matter as long as the future was good. But it just didn't seem right. Living without know just what those journals meant._

"_Is there something you would like to talk to me about or would you prefer to sit there, staring at me as if I were some sort of circus attraction?" Arthur asked, suddenly._

"_Oh, yeah! Um… when are Mom and Dad getting back from their vacation?" Al winced, cursing his impromptu cowardice._

"_Next month sometime. If they don't decide to extend it again. Now, tell me why you really want to talk to me."_

_Oh, how Al hated it when Arthur saw right through him like that. "What do you remember about the… old magic? And don't you dare tell me that you don't know anything about it because the hero can tell when you're lying!"_

_Then, it was just like it had been with Mattie, so long ago. Those few moments of complete confusion that was so apparent before they melted into remembrance. At least with the strawberry blond, there had been a rather high chance that he had merely forgotten about it. But Arthur had one of the best memories that he had ever seen. And the green eyed blond had been telling him those stories for years._

"_Bloody hell, why are you asking me about that? The Old Magic isn't something that you should be messing with, Al. Just because it has turned out wonderfully for some people doesn't mean that it has been that way for everyone. In fact, it usually ends badly!" Arthur exclaimed._

"_Artie, it's the journals. I think that it… they are tied with this old magic somehow. It's the only thing that makes any sort of sense to me."_

_The look on the green eyed man's face was nothing less than terrifying. Chills ran through the blue eyed blond; he had never seen Arthur look so, so scared before. Except for maybe the time that he had almost caught the house on fire when they were younger. Regret filled him. He should have just let the whole thing go, especially if it was something this major._

"_Why the fuck did I never think of this?" Al winced for a second time but Arthur just continued, "Wait here, I'm going to call up Uncle Scottie. He has to know something about this! He was the person who told me about any of it in the first place."_

"_So, we're… screwed then?"_

"_Oh, I don't think that we've ever gotten closer to being screwed."_


End file.
